What Follows the Monkey
by daccu65
Summary: My entry into the 2016 Halloween story contest. Monkeyfist calls up yet another power against the cheerleader and the pretender. Now, with an unstoppable assassin in play, Wade's mind might be the only hope. Can even the young genius come up with a solution? No longer a one- shot.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Dear potential reader:_

 _Please understand that none of the characters appearing in this tale are mine; they belong to Disney. This tale is not meant to generate profit, it was written for simple entertainment. This is also my entry to Stormchaser90's 2nd Annual Heebie Jeebie Hullabaloo Halloween Story Contest._

 _Please enjoy:_

* * *

The suite was secure and difficult to get into...if vertical surfaces bothered you. Shego had never had a problem with heights and something about being a dozen stories up seemed to make people feel secure enough to leave their windows open. The green-hued mercenary didn't care, she got paid the same whether the job was easy or hard. Slipping in through the window, she went to the front door and looked through the peephole, making sure the coast was clear. She opened the door for a look up and down the hall.

She started for a moment, swearing she heard footsteps. Then, she swore she heard a breathing sound, like something in front of her was sniffing at her. A moment later, the breathing went silent and she thought she heard footsteps wandering down the hall. Unfortunately, the tile floor didn't provide any footprints to watch...even if she heard what she thought she did. Shrugging her shoulders, she went back into the suite and took a seat on the couch, waiting for her mark to show up. She didn't have long to wait.

It was perhaps a half hour later that the door unlocked and opened, allowing Monkeyfist to enter the suite. He was somewhat disguised, wearing a hat and a high collar but Shego was looking specifically for him, and easily recognized him.

"Well, if it isn't the monkey himself," she said, rising from the couch.

"Shego!" He gasped. "What do you want?"

"Well, Dr. D noted that you've been moving around an awful lot," she told him. "He seems to think that means you'll be available for work at bargain basement prices. Seeing your accommodations, I don't think you're hurting for money. Still, he sent me to make the offer."

"It would be a very poor choice to bring me to one of his lairs," Monty told her, closing the door behind him. "I'm being pursued by a slow but very determined hunter."

"He must be dangerous to chase you out of your castle," Shego observed. "Who is it?"

"The correct question is _what_ is it," Monty told her. "And that's a long story."

"This is a comfortable room," Shego countered. "I could stand to hear a good yarn."

"Why not?" He agreed, hanging up his coat and hat and finding a comfortable chair. She noted that he looked somewhat ragged, as if he hadn't been sleeping very well.

"It all started about two years ago," he told her. "The cheerleader and her sidekick had thwarted me again, so I decided it was time to do something about them. I had heard of certain supernatural entities that a forgotten religion in Burma had once used, so I obtained certain artifacts from a Burmese museum to aid me in my endeavors..."

* * *

"So just what are we here to do again?" Ron asked, as the two teens scrambled through a window in Fiske's castle.

"Security cameras caught Monkeyfist stealing bronze tablets and some ancient scrolls from a museum in Burma," Kim reminded him, looking around the room they found themselves in. "We're here to retrieve the tablets and the scrolls, if we can." She busied herself looking over the many tables full of artifacts and art in the room, comparing what was present to the images on her Kimmunicator.

"I hate this place," Ron grumbled as he helped. "Full of monkey pictures, monkey statues...monkeys! Five hundred miles of bad road."

"It's not that bad," Kim chided him, continuing the search.

"Not bad?" Ron demanded. "I mean, look at those statues and the portrait...Monkeyfist!"

"Keep it down Ron," Kim hissed. "I know that he has pictures and statues of himself, he's about the most vain crook we have to deal with."

"Ah, the cheerleader mentality," Monkeyfist snickered, walking into the room. "She cannot even tell when the buffoon is trying to warn her. Very well, understand this. Monkey ninjas...attack!"

Fiske jumped forward with a front flip, engaging Kim while a half-dozen monkey ninjas rushed after Ron. Kim gave ground, blocking and dodging the kung-fu master's punches and kicks while she continued to look around the room. Ron attempted the same, while pursued by the monkeys. He ducked under one table, then jumped over a second, he then slid back under the second table and jumped over the first, with the lead monkeys never more than a foot behind him.

"What's wrong," Fiske taunted the redhead. "Doesn't cheerleading include fighting anymore? Why do both you and the pretender keep running?"

"Found the tablets, KP!" Ron's shout sounded from the other end of the room.

"Blast him!" Fiske snarled, only to find himself now dodging and blocking Kim's attack. "Monkey ninjas, grab the tablets!"

A series of howls, shrieks and chitters answered him.

"Very well, if the pretender has the tablets, get him!"

Kim reminded Fiske that he had his own problems when she landed a hard kick to his stomach, sending him staggering across the room. He regained his balance and threw a series of punches and kick's at the redhead. Kim dodged and, although one kick brushed through her hair, managed to avoid being hit. In the meantime, Ron managed to shove the tablets into his cargo pocket and keep ahead of the monkeys, even though small paws made occasional, grazing contact, tugging at his clothing and hair.

Finally, Kim managed to land another hard shot to Fiske's stomach, sending him backpedaling across the room to wind up sitting in an ornate chair. Just as he fell onto the furniture, Ron approached it from behind and jumped over it, pursued by the monkeys. Fiske had the uncomfortable sensation of having a series of his monkeys jump over his head, land on his lap and continue their pursuit of the blonde. Ron ran around the chair twice and the lead monkey in pursuit caught its tail in the chair's arm. This caused a tangle in the pursuit and the remaining monkeys' tails lashed themselves into a large knot. Suddenly, Fiske found himself restrained in the chair by a tangle of his own monkey ninjas.

"I think recovering the tablets is going to be the best we can do," Ron suggested, running for the window.

"I'm forced to agree," Kim replied.

The two teens jumped out of the window and used Kim's grapple to lower themselves to the ground. After this, it was a sprint away from the castle and a call to Wade for a ride back home.

"Chippy," Fiske, still in the middle of a monkey knot, addressed one minion. "Your ear is in my left nostril and it's starting to tickle. If you don't move it I'm going to...to...to...AhChoo!"

The sneeze somehow untangled the mass of monkeys. Fiske ran to the window and looked out, to see no sign of the teens.

"The tablets were far more valuable than the scrolls," Fiske grumbled. "But at least I've had some luck translating the latter."

A monkey chittered a little at the lord.

"I don't need that attitude!" Fiske snarled at his servant. "I was in control of my fight until the lot of you entangled me! Couldn't the six of you together handle the pretender? You couldn't even catch him!"

The little primate chittered some more and held up a handful of short, blonde hair.

"I don't care if you _almost_ caught him!" Fiske snapped. He held up his left foot and pulled three red hairs from between his monkey-like toes. "I _almost_ struck the cheerleader. What good does plucking a few hairs do?"

Suddenly, he smiled and collected the blonde hairs from Chippy. "This little encounter might turn out to be beneficial, after all!"

* * *

"So just what are these tablets, anyway," Kim used the Kimmunicator to ask Wade. Sitting in the back of an Air Force transport, the teens could finally relax a little.

"They're supposed to describe certain rites and ceremonies used by some long-forgotten tribe," Wade replied. "Since you have some time, why don't you scan the hieroglyphics on them? I might be able to work out a translation."

"Which might tell us why Monty was interested in them in the first place," Kim concluded. For the next several minutes, she carefully scanned the sheets of bronze, transmitting the images to her young friend.

"I'll get a translation program started right away," Wade assured her. "In the meantime, aren't some judges going to watch your routine at this Friday's game? You've got several hours of flight time, so you might want to either go over your routine, do some homework or catch some sleep."

"We seem to have a grip on the routine and the homework," Kim told him. "So sleep sounds nice."

"I'll call if I can come up with anything," the boy nodded. "Wade out."

Since the teens had finished their homework on the flight to England, they spent most of the flight back sleeping. As such, they were actually well rested when they parachuted into Middleton. It was now Saturday afternoon. They went to Kim's house and called Wade, to ask him what he had discovered.

"I don't know what the ceremony is supposed to do," Wade admitted. "But it's supposed to be done as a sort of dance. I threw together a 3D simulation of it. Care to see?"

"Sure," Kim shrugged. Ron nodded.

The television in the Possibles' family room suddenly turned on and showed a figure performing a routine that looked like a combination of a dance routine, martial arts kata and tumbling demonstration.

"Wow!" Kim exclaimed, watching it. "That's almost mesmerizing." She paused a moment. "Ron! Do you think you could do that with the Mad Dog costume on? It's better than what we have you doing while we leave the court, after our routine!"

"I think so," the blonde boy stared, scratching at his chin. "That double flip at the end could be tricky with the dog's head on but you're right, it would be a better way of taking the attention away from the squad leaving the court." Suddenly, his eyes lit up. "Hey! Do you think I could get some sort of extra credit for performing a long-forgotten dance routine?"

"That's actually worth a try." Kim admitted.

Soon, the video was loaded onto the Kimmunicator, which was able to project a 3D image. The teens went outside, where Ron worked to match the movements. Of course, it was rough at first but the blonde teen proved adaptable and Kim proved a good coach. As the sun started to go down, Ron was closer to learning the routine, but he wasn't quite there.

* * *

"You see, my monkey servants, these scrolls detail the rituals needed to summon a powerful, unseen, giant and obedient monkey spirit to our reality," Fiske told his ninjas. "If I give this spirit an item belonging to a target, the spirit will not rest until the target is destroyed! We have hair from both the cheerleader and the pretender! The scroll has a list of the items I need to perform the ritual, as well as a full description of what I need to do. I can obtain the items then summon the spirit, sit back and watch it take care of those meddling teens! It is slow but unstoppable!"

Suddenly, a monkey jumped onto his desk and chittered at him some more.

"Why yes, Chippy," Fiske admitted. "If it's slow, it will take a very long time for it to cross the Atlantic and reach its targets. You're right, perhaps we should gather up what items we need and move to a location closer to the cheer squad before summoning the executioner."

The lord pulled a pen and paper from his desk and wrote out the items he needed, distributing copies of the list to his monkey ninjas to collect.

* * *

The school week went like a whirlwind for Kim and Ron. While there were no missions, there were tests, quizzes and classes to attend. Initially, Mr. Barkin refused to give Ron any extra credit for his efforts to master the ancient ritual but once Wade arranged to have two Burmese archaeologists call him and confirm that it was a real claim, the big man relented. Of course, the squad was excited about the judges watching their routine during the game on Friday. Ron continued to struggle to learn the ritual.

Surprisingly, even Bonnie was supportive of Ron's efforts.

"Anything's better than something the two of you came up with," the brunette sneered. "But if he can't hit that double flip at the end, he's going to look like a fool. Oh, excuse me, I meant an even bigger fool."

"That's enough, Bonnie," Kim growled. "That's a tough routine and Ron's a good mascot."

"As if," Bonnie snorted back. "I can hit a double flip, why can't he?"

"Can you do it while wearing the Mad Dog head?" Kim challenged.

"I don't have to," Bonnie retorted. "I'm cute. Ron _needs_ to wear the mask."

Kim could only grind her teeth in frustration while her rival, nose oriented firmly in an upward direction, stalked off.

Monday night, Wade called again with more information about the ritual that Ron was trying to perfect.

"It's supposed to be done with an audience clapping and drums beating in a specific rhythm," he reported. "I'm downloading a sound file to you at this time."

"That does go along with the ritual," Kim noted. "I can make use of this!"

"How so?" Wade asked.

"I'll have the squad clap out this rhythm while we leave the court," Kim told him. "And I'll get the band's drummers to drum it when Ron takes the floor. It might actually help him get the moves right."

On Tuesday, Kim dropped off printed scores for the drum routine. The band's drummers didn't have any problems, since it was a fairly simple beat. She also instructed the cheerleaders to clap out the rhythm while they left the court after their routine. Of course, Bonnie complained about this.

"We're the stars, not Stoppable," she huffed. "Why should we be helping him?"

"Oh, come off it," Tara, of all people, stood up to her. "Aren't you excited about taking part in an ancient ritual? The beat will get the crowd involved and it's driving! I can really move to it!"

The blonde girl shook her hips to the beat, prompting Ron to stare. That was nothing unusual, when Tara shook her hips to a driving beat, most males in the area stared.

Bonnie actually scowled at her blonde friend for a moment.

"Besides," Crystal pointed out. "If the crowd joins in, we might get a few extra points for crowd control."

"Well, okay," Bonnie relented.

Meanwhile, Ron was just getting to the point of performing the routine with his mask on. While he was close without it, the mask was bulky, so he struggled a little. Of course, Bonnie had plenty to say about it, but the blonde boy kept at it and was much closer to perfect by the time practice was over.

On Wednesday, the band practiced with the squad. The hard work had paid off, and the live music and excellent routine was sure to have a strong impact on the judges. As the squad exited the stage, clapping out the ritual's rhythm along with the drummers, Ron burst onto the court, in full costume, executing the tumbles, strikes and acrobatics that the ancient ritual called for. His execution was both flawless and exciting..right up until the last move.

"Well, at least the judges might take the comedy element into consideration," Bonnie groused.

"Can't you feel it?" Tara countered her. "It's a powerful, driving exhibition! It's sure to grab the crowd and the judges!"

Kim had to admit that the ritual, with Ron's execution and the clapping and drumming, grabbed one's attention...almost to the point of being mesmerizing. Even if he flubbed the last move, it was sure to score some points.

Thursday's practice went much the same. This time, even Bonnie was getting excited about the entire routine, sure that the squad would score high marks and that Ron's routine would give them some extra points. Even Mr. Barkin seemed more supportive, even enthusiastic about giving Ron the extra credit for his work. That evening, Wade called again.

"I just translated another bit from the tablets," he reported. "That last move is supposed to have a half-twist, as well as the double flip."

Ron got up and tried the last couple of moves.

"That makes sense!" He burst out. "I don't know how I know this, it's just that the ending seemed...wrong..without that last bit."

"So don't know what you're talking about," Kim admitted. "But if it works for you and it helps the squad, go for it."

* * *

"Yes, Chippy, the ritual must be performed after dark," Fiske told his minion. He and the monkey were standing in front of his Land Rover, looking down a mountainside to the city of Middleton. The rest of the monkeys were in the vehicle, taking advantage of the heater. Chippy chittered at him some more.

"It's the fault of you and your fellow monkeys," Fiske told the primate. "Yes, I know that it's cold but a weather front moved into the area yesterday. We could have been here and done with this if the lot of you hadn't drank all of the banana oil and eaten the banana scented candles."

Fiske shuddered. The effects that the candle wax and fruit oils had upon his monkeys' digestive tracts had been as horrid as it had been predictable. What those out of control digestive tracts had done to his castle had been as disgusting as it had been predictable. All told, being outside in the cold but fresh air, even so far from home, came as something of a blessing.

"We cannot perform the summoning ritual until after dark, but we can prepare for it," he told his minion. "Get your fellows and set things up. I'll keep personal control over the oil and the candles, thank you very much."

With some more chitters, Chippy put the monkeys to work. The small primates leveled a patch of ground and dug arcane symbols into the earth. They set small lanterns, without candles in them at this point, at strategic places around the level patch.

While they were doing this, Fiske was reviewing the ceremony one last time, making sure that he had it committed to memory. After this, he reviewed the local newspaper on line, confirming once again that Middleton High School was playing a basketball game tonight. The cheerleader and the pretender were certain to be in the high school gym. He judged the distance between his location and the gymnasium, and was sure that the spirit monkey assassin would arrive shortly after halftime. He allowed a cruel smile to appear on his face, his irritants' demise would be visible to the general public.

Let the world see what happened to those who opposed Montgomery Fiske!

* * *

If there ever was a time that Kim wanted the basketball game to be boring, this was it. Unfortunately, it was a tooth-and-nail sort of thing, with the momentum shifting back and forth between the teams. This was the sort of game that fans loved. Usually, Kim liked these sorts of games, as well, since they seemed to stoke the energy in the gym. However, when you wanted to make sure your halftime routine was going to be flawless, boring was better. She looked over at Ron. While she couldn't see his expression under the mask, his subtle arm movements told her that he was reviewing his own routine in his mind. She took a deep breath and cheered as Middleton scored another layup on a breakaway, hoping her squad had the energy to execute the routine after a half of cheering for an exciting game.

* * *

The monkeys lit a large bonfire as the sun's last sliver vanished behind the mountains to the west. With a wave and a glare to make the primates keep their distance, Fikse placed and lit a candle in each of the lanterns and carefully trickled banana oil into the arcane symbols in the earth. He then took the samples of Possible's and Stoppable's hair, wrapped them in banana leaves, and placed them in the appropriate locations. Assuming the lotus position in his assigned location, he began the chant.

The cold night grew colder and the gentle night breeze halted. Fiske continued chanting as smoke from the bonfire swirled around the place opposite him on the level patch. Suddenly, there was the overwhelming sense that _something_ was there, even though it couldn't be seen. The smoke continued to swirl, revealing a large, monkey-shaped hollow, in the space opposite the kung-fu master. The monkey ninjas scrambled into the Land Rover and locked the doors.

"Obey me, oh spirit!" Fiske commanded. "Take up those samples of hair before you and crush those from whom they came. Destroy my enemies, I command you!"

The hollow shape in the smoke extended two arms towards the leaf-wrapped offerings. The bundles vanished when the invisible hands reached them. The hollow shape turned and stalked off towards Middleton. Once it was out of the smoke, Fiske could no longer discern the shape, but large, monkey footprints appeared in the soft ground and grass was trampled, marking the spirit's path. Soon, it was out of the firelight and Fiske couldn't track its movement. He smiled, it was traveling at roughly a fast walk. It should reach the high school gym in under an hour.

Fiske turned on a radio, tuned to the game. He was sure the announcers would have some interesting things to report when the spirit reached the gym.

* * *

The first half had lasted longer than usual, with all of the time outs and penalties. Kim's heart was fluttering as she waited, hand raised and looking at the band director, for the teams to clear the court. The squad was just as nervous, as 'taking to the court' was part of the routine. Finally, the players had jogged off to the locker rooms and the officials had left to take a short break. She dropped her hand, prompting the band to play the Middleton fight song and the squad to take to the court.

* * *

As soon as the buzzer sounded, Vinny, Junior and Big Mike slipped out a back door and went to Vinny's car, where they had the beer and cigarettes stashed. This would be the perfect time for a quick sip and a smoke, since they were pretty sure everyone would be watching the cheerleaders perform. Vinny was careful to only have half a beer, since he'd have to drive home tonight. While they were talking and smoking, Big Mike was suddenly sent sprawling.

"What's wrong?" Junior asked. "Does one can of beer put you on the ground?"

"Shut up!" Big Mike snarled back. "It's like something just shoved me out of the way!"

* * *

The squad finished their routine, flawlessly like usual. Now, they started clapping and foot-stamping to they rhythm as they left the court. The drummers and even some of the audience took up the beat and now it was time! Ron rushed onto the court, executing the front handspring, the half-twist and then the back handspring and somersault. Now came the jump and twirl that dropped into the deep squat and spring. More of the audience took up the beat and the Ron-man was in the zone!

* * *

Phillipe the janitor enjoyed the fresh air on his face. Sometimes, the gym got stuffy and you just had to stick your head outside and get some cold air. Suddenly, the door was yanked right off of its hinges and he was sent sprawling back into the gym, slamming against the wall opposite the back door.

* * *

Ron executed the last double flip with a half twist and stuck the landing. The applause thundered in his ears and he felt a jolt through his body, similar to when he had been exposed to the Mystical Monkey Power. In fact, he felt very strong. He jumped and waved, performing a couple of flips as he made his way to a the corner of the gym where the squad was assembling. Kim was absolutely beaming, Crystal, Hope, Marcella, Jess and Liz were hugging each other, Tara was looking at him and clapping and even Bonnie was smiling.

The blonde boy pulled off the mad dog head and caught a blessed breath of air. Kim gave him a massive hug and Tara gave him a peck on the cheek. The applause started to quiet as the fans anticipated the second half. It became just quiet enough to hear the Kimmunicator's tone from Ron's sweat pants.

Ron pulled the device out of his pocket and handed it to Kim.

"Great job guys," the boy congratulated his friends. "But I've got some news. Monkeyfist's plane landed at the Middleton International Airport earlier today. Right now, I've got eyes on a Land Rover sitting next to a bonfire and a circle of candles up on Mt. Middleton, with a direct line of sight to the gym."

"At least he waited until we were done with the routine," Kim grumbled. "Bonnie, you have the squad. Ron and I better check this out. Who knows what Monty's up to?"

Bonnie led the squad back to the sidelines to cheer for the second half while Kim and Ron rushed down a short hallway to a back door. They stopped short when they saw a janitor sprawled on the ground and the door torn from its hinges.

* * *

Out in the parking lot, Big Mike was getting angry.

"I'm telling you, something just flat out shoved me out of the way!" He growled at his companions.

Suddenly, he was sent sprawling again, this time in the opposite direction as the first time.

* * *

Up on Mt. Middleton, Fiske was getting increasingly anxious. According to his calculations, the spirit should have reached the gymnasium by now, but the radio announcers were only talking about the game. Then, they mentioned something about the cheer squad's routine, followed by the mascot's performance. Then they talked about the teams returning to the court and the fact that Kim Possible wasn't with the cheer squad when it returned to the sidelines. Had the spirit eliminated Possible and Stoppable in a very discrete manner? From his vantage point, he could now see the red, flashing lights of an ambulance heading towards the gymnasium.

Feeling the call of nature, Fiske directed his minions to gather more firewood while he stalked a short distance away and performed his business. Returning to the Land Rover, his ears were assaulted by the sudden, terrified shrieks of his monkeys. Chippy sprang over the vehicle and seized his hand, pulling him away from the bonfire. Suddenly, the swirling smoke revealed the hollow form of the spirit, opposite the vehicle from the kung-fu master. It seemed to be striding directly towards him and Fiske suddenly went cold inside. That cold feeling turned to panic when his car was thrown to one side.

Monty had no idea what was happening but he knew something was wrong. He was no coward but he was also not too proud to run like hell when the situation called for it. He fled for his life, the sounds of his monkeys shrieking in pain and fear sounding in his ears. He didn't know if he should be grateful for their sacrifice or horrified at what was happening to them.

* * *

Some time later, a helicopter swooped down to hover above the bonfire. A rope descended and two teenagers slid down it to look in confusion around the site. They were both happy that it wasn't fully light when they saw the small, crumpled forms on the ground.

"We need an emergency veterinarian," Kim called into Wade. "We just found several of Fiske's monkeys and they aren't in very good shape. Also, the Land Rover is laying on its side but I can't see any sort of skid marks that would suggest some sort of accident."

"Throw in the fact that a janitor got knocked out, a gym door was torn off of its hinges and something apparently roughed up Big Mike in the parking lot and we have the ingredients for a major mystery." Ron commented. He then knelt and tried to talk to one of the injured monkeys.

"Any sign of Fiske?" Wade asked.

"Nothing," Kim remarked. Suddenly, Rufus started to chitter. Kim and Ron followed the sound to a point near the bonfire. There, visible in the firelight, they saw a large, clawed footprint.

"It looks like a monkey's print," Ron commented. "But it would have to be a very large monkey."

"There's more prints," Kim added. They lead towards where the Land Rover must have been sitting when it was tipped onto its side."

A ping was heard from the Kimmunicator.

"What was that?" Ron demanded. "Wade, when your things go ping it's seldom anything good!"

"It's just my translation routine finishing up," the boy told his friend. "I can now tell you what that routine you performed is supposed to do."

"Well, what did I just manage?" The blonde asked.

"Okay, it seems that the scrolls that Fiske stole are instructions to summon some sort of invisible, unstoppable monkey assassin." Wade told them, reading from his screen. "If you can summon the thing and give it some hair or other body part of a target, it will never stop until the target is killed."

"Not the thing I like to hear while on a dark mountainside," Kim remarked.

"Only one thing will stop it," Wade told her.

"And that would be?" Ron prompted.

"The routine you just performed," Wade told him. "According to my translation, once someone summons the evil spirit, if someone imbued with the Mystical Monkey Power performs the routine to the accompaniment of at least a dozen people clapping their hands or playing drums, the spirit will turn on its summoner and not rest until the summoner is destroyed."

* * *

"So you're telling me some sort of monkey spirit is chasing you?" Shego asked Fiske.

"Indeed," the Englishman told her. "I didn't know the details immediately, of course. I only knew that for some reason, it had failed to attack the cheerleader and the pretender and had turned upon me. I ran all the way back to the airport, boarded my aircraft and flew back to my estate. In route, Possible's technical support boy contacted me and told me what had happened."

"What did you do?" Shego asked him.

"I returned to my estate and went about my business," Fiske informed her. "I was sure that it would be unable to find me with the Atlantic between us. For roughly three months, I was correct."

"After three months?" She prompted him.

"Late one night, my main door suddenly burst open," he answered. "A fate shared by every door between the main entrance to my castle and my bedchamber."

"What did you do?" Shego asked.

"I fled out the back door, jumped into my car and drove to London," he answered. "I caught the first international flight available. Since then, I've stayed at a series of suites, rental homes and other abodes, always making sure there are at least two exits from every place I go. It always finds me, eventually. I am due for it to locate me here, which is why I have been having trouble sleeping lately. I think that it always knows what direction it has to travel to find me but once it gets close, this sense becomes useless and it has to rely on other senses."

"So you can't just stay out of sight?" Shego asked him.

"It's blind," he answered. "It makes sense. Since it is invisible, photons don't interact with its body, including optic nerves. No, once it gets close it relies on scent. For this reason, I have not used the back door. When it arrives, it will follow my scent to the front door and I will flee out the back." He paused. "Shego, are you unwell?"

"You say it tracks you by scent?" The now pale woman asked. "Monty, when I first slipped in through the window, I stepped out the front door for a look around. I swore I heard footsteps and sniffing."

"Then it is in the immediate area," Fiske informed her. He rose to his feet, reached into a wardrobe and pulled out a backpack. "I will probably be leaving or, more to the point fleeing, very shortly."

His speech was punctuated by the suite's front door suddenly shattering into the room.

"Step to the side of the room," Fiske instructed, fleeing into his bedroom and to the back door. "It has no interest in you, so you will only be harmed if you get in the way."

Shego stared, only partially believing her eyes, as she saw a series of footprints appear in the thick carpeting. She heard the back door open and Monty rush down the hallway. Unable to help herself, she rushed out of the front door and down the hall, putting herself in front of whatever was creating the footprints before it could leave the suite via the same back door that Fiske had just fled through. Curious, she loosed a weak spray of plasma towards the footprints that were now appearing in the bedroom carpet. Her green plasma revealed a large, monkey-shaped hollow coming through the door.

Still curious, Shego stepped forward and increased the plasma's strength to her full power. Still the invisible spirit advanced and, with her now in the way, simply swatted her to one side.

She had never been hit so hard in her life, flying a good thirty feet down the hallway. Still, she remained still and quiet, quiet enough to hear footprints striding down the hall, away from her. Moments later, the door to the stairs at that end of the hall burst open.

Shego staggered to her feet and decided that it was time to vacate the immediate area. Someone was sure to show up and investigate the noise and if they saw her here with all this damage, certain assumptions were certain to be made. It was time to go back and report what she had learned to Dr. D.

Fiske was right, he wasn't going to be good company for the foreseeable future.

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _Thanks to Joe Stoppinghem, for giving it a once-over before I published._

 _Happy Halloween, everyone._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: This chapter takes place between the the events at the basketball game in Middleton and Shego's talk with Fiske, in the last chapter. It is my intent that the events in the story, at this time, will take place after 'Return to Wannaweep', but before 'Motor Ed'._

* * *

The jet flew on autopilot, its owner sitting, shaken, in the pilot's seat. Truth be told, Lord Montgomery Fiske did not know how to pilot the aircraft, depending on the automation to take care of everything. He simply felt better being in the pilot's seat. Next to him, in the copilot's seat, Chippy had long since given up trying to speak to him. Instead, the Englishman sat with a dejected look on his face, staring at the brightening, eastern horizon. His thoughts were interrupted by an incoming call.

"Monkeyfist," the voice sounded over the radio. "Did you summon some sort of spirit to destroy Kim and Ron?"

"Who is this?" Fiske demanded.

"I'm Wade Lode," the voice informed him. "I help Kim and Ron. Now, answer the question. Did you summon a spirit to destroy them."

"Why would I admit it to you, even if I did?" Fiske demanded.

"I can give you a couple of reasons," Wade voice informed him. "First, I can tell you why the spirit turned on you and how long it will be after you. You might want to know that."

"Secondly, you still have the scrolls while I have access to the information on the tablets. By combining our information, we might be able to come up with some way of dealing with this thing. There is, of course, one last reason you would want to deal with me."

"And that is?" Fiske asked.

Suddenly, the aircraft's nose angled down. Fiske yelped as his body threatened to fly out of his seat, only the seat belt keeping him safely in the chair. Even as he groped for the controls, the aircraft leveled out and started to slowly and gracefully climb back to its cruising altitude.

"I have managed to hack into your aircraft's controls," Wade told him. "Now, I'm not evil enough to crash you into the ocean, but I might be tempted to call the Burmese and Cambodian Embassies in England, telling them that a certain nobleman that is wanted for antiquities theft is on a certain private aircraft. I could then keep that certain aircraft in the air until they have a chance to arrange for the authorities to be at the airstrip, waiting for it to land. I could also make sure that the aircraft lands at the airstrip of their choosing."

"You drive a hard bargain, my young friend," Fiske was actually impressed with the young man. "Let me begin. I did, indeed use the instructions on the scrolls to summon a spirit to crush the cheerleader and her pretender of a sidekick."

"Okay, I'll match that." Wade told him. "The tablets described a sort of dance ceremony. By performing it, Ron turned the spirit onto you, the summoner. It won't stop until you are dead."

"This is hardly information that I want to hear," Fiske grumbled.

"Would you rather hear what I've learned or have that thing surprise you sometime?" Wade countered.

"Another valid point," Fiske admitted.

"I was able to use some security camera footage and estimate the thing's speed," Wade continued. "I'm guessing that it moves at roughly a fast walk, maybe just a little faster. If it has some sort of supernatural connection to you, it is probably walking in your direction, right now. It might take something on the order of ninety days to cross the Atlantic and reach your castle, assuming that you stay there."

"Do you expect payment for such news?" Fiske asked, sarcastically.

"No, I expect cooperation," Wade shot back. "When you get to your castle, either send me copies of the scrolls or turn them over to the Burmese Embassy in England. They'll take them without question and send me scans. I may be able to find out more about this spirit."

"I have studied ancient mysteries since before you were born," Fiske sneered at the radio. "Do you really think you are capable of learning such secrets that I cannot?"

"You're a thief, Fiske," Wade pointed out. "That means you have access to all the information you can steal. I, on the other hand, work for a heroine with a well-earned reputation for helping people. When I requested information from that museum you stole the tablets and scroll from, they were too happy to provide me with scans of everything in their collection. I have a database that you simply cannot match, because people are willing to cooperate with me while they guard their possessions from you. I can take the information from these scrolls and cross-reference it with knowledge that you just can't match. After which, I can present my findings to you and let you apply your unique perspective and knowledge."

"I hate young people with solid arguments," the Englishman muttered. "Let me think about it."

"Think about this while you finish your trip," Wade added. "I don't have your experience, but this is your life we're talking about. I have a rough idea of how strong that thing is, and there's no way you're going to survive if it ever gets it's paws on you. Do you really want to deny any chance you have to find a solution to this problem?"

"Like I said, I really hate it when my foes have valid points." Fiske repeated. "Very well, I will provide you with such scrolls upon my return. In fact, I will provide you with scans of additional materials. What can you tell me at this time?"

"Only that the spirit cannot fly or swim," Wade answered. "It also seems to travel a straight line towards it's target. Right now, it's probably walking towards you, constantly changing its course as you remain moving."

Fiske shuddered. The thought of the assailant constantly moving in his direction chilled him, even though he knew he was vastly outpacing it.

"It will cross most of North America, then walk across the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean to reach you," Wade continued. "Then will cross half of the British Isles to get to you. I'm hoping you can give me more material, so that I can determine how long it will take. Right now, it looks like you will have at least eight weeks before it reaches your castle, probably more."

"That's something," Fiske admitted.

"One other thing, and I can't confirm this. It seems the spirit will only go through doors, not walls. If I'm translating properly, it can break through just about any door, open or closed, but won't go through even the flimsiest of walls. If I were you, I wouldn't bet my life on this."

"If that's true, it will give me a bit of an advantage," Fiske mused. "Is there any way to confirm this?"

"Direct observation," Fiske swore he could hear the smirk in the voice. "When it reaches your castle, if it busts through the walls to get you, you'll know it's false. If it breaks through the doors, you know it's true."

"Your voice has an annoying amount of satisfaction in it," Fiske protested. "This is my life we're talking about!"

"Which you put in danger by trying to kill my friends," the rejoinder came through the radio as a snarl. "You're lucky that we're true heroes; we could have just left you to face your fate. Just send me the information, keep your eyes open and if you encounter it and survive, tell me about it. I'm trying to compile a profile. If I were you, I'd keep at least two forms of transportation fueled and ready to go at a moment's notice and never go into a room that has only one entrance. I'd also be a good boy for the foreseeable future. Think of it, a four month prison sentence probably equates to a death sentence for you, right now."

The radio went dead and Fiske spent the rest of the long flight honestly wondering about the choices he had made in his life.

* * *

"What's up, Kim?" Wade pulled himself away from his screens to answer the call. Fiske had been good to his word. In the weeks that had passed following their conversation, he had scanned the numerous scrolls, tablets, photos and other artifacts he had stolen during his long career as first an honest archaeologist, then a rather morally ambiguous 'collector of antiquities', then as an outright thief. In fact, the scans were still coming in. Wade suspected that Fiske had instructed his monkeys to scan everything he had, whether it related to the spirit or not, to make sure he wasn't overlooking any potential way out of his predicament. Wade didn't care, it was all information, as well as incriminating evidence against the nobleman, if needed.

"Ron's been scarce since Friday night," his friend told him. "Usually he likes to hang over the weekend, but he didn't show up here and he isn't answering his phone. Has he talked to you?"

"Actually he has," Wade told her. "Back when you performed the routine, he said that he really enjoyed learning and performing it."

"Saving us from certain death is a good way to promote some positive feedback," Kim pointed out. "Even if we didn't realize it at the time."

"I don't think that's it," Wade told her. "He said that he really enjoyed learning it, working at it and doing it. I don't think it was just for the cheers and the good marks the judges gave him, either. Anyway, he asked me if there were other such routines that I could translate."

"You didn't actually give him any, did you?" Kim gasped. "We don't know what they do!"

"I did, but relax," Wade told her. "There are dozens of such ceremonies described in the materials that the Burmese, and other officials, sent me. I'm a little busy right now, but I translated several suggested exercises that are supposed to enhance strength, stamina, flexibility and maybe enhance his Mystical Monkey Power. He was happy to work on them since then, but Friday he asked for another ceremonial routine. I gave him one that is only supposed to, and I quote, promote greater agility and balance. I sent it to Ron and he's in his back yard right now, practicing it."

"Is that all?" Kim glared at him.

"I don't know what's going on in his head," Wade shrugged. "But I think he might be taking the whole martial arts and mystical monkey power thing more seriously. You can't really think that's a bad thing, can you?"

"I guess not," Kim sighed. "I was just looking forward to hanging out yesterday. To be honest, I haven't seen as much of him outside of school since we deflected the spirit and I kind of miss hanging with him."

"Why not go over and hang with him?" Wade suggested. "My track...er...while I don't have cameras in his yard, I know that he hasn't left his neighborhood. I...guess...he's working on the ceremony right now."

"That sounds like a good idea," Kim nodded. "By the way, why are you so busy?"

"Fiske is sending me all sorts of data about everything he's managed to obtain over his career," Wade told her. "Right now, I've got my network translating everything, prioritizing it by how likely it is to have information about that spirit, and crunching the data. I hope to have more information by this evening."

"When do you think you'll have a plan for dealing with it?" Kim asked.

"That's the problem," Wade admitted. "From what I've learned so far, I don't know if any amount of planning is going to do any good. I'm afraid we're going to have to find some way to perform direct observations."

Kim shuddered at that. Anything that could tear the sturdy gym door off of its hinges and throw a Land Rover to one side wasn't something that could be safely observed, especially since it was invisible. Shaking her head, she decided to head to Ron's house and hang with him, as well as make sure he had his homework ready for Monday.

When she reached the Stoppables' house, she walked around to the back yard and got a shock. Sure, she was expecting to see Ron, but she wasn't expecting to see him dressed in sweat pants and a t shirt, soaked in sweat from a workout. She also wasn't expecting to see Tara there, observing a computer screen while Ron went through a routine similar to the one that saved them from the spirit.

"Okay, you've got it right up to the twelfth move," the blonde girl said, looking at the screen. "Why don't you grab a drink of water and start from the top? I think we can have this ready to show Kim by tomorrow."

"Show me?" Kim asked, opening a gate and walking into the back yard.

"Oh, hey KP," Ron greeted her, grabbing a bottle of water. "What brings you over on this fine day?"

"Checking on you," Kim admitted. "I didn't see you yesterday and thought you might be a little freaked about that spirit thing."

"Oh, yeah," Ron shuddered. "I did plenty of freaking, I'll admit that."

"So why didn't you come over and hang out?"

"Well, Tara called and asked to get together at the library to team up on our homework assignments," he shrugged. "That took most of the afternoon and after that, we came back here because Tara wanted to see the kata thing again. We ran through it a few times."

"We?" Kim asked.

"Yeah," Tara chimed in. "I was interested in seeing if the whole squad, or maybe just a couple of members besides Ron, could perform it."

"I'm sort of in charge of the routines," Kim pointed out, a slight growl in her voice.

"That's why I wanted to test it before bringing it up to you," Tara shrugged. "So it wouldn't waste practice time."

"What did you find out?" Kim asked, now much more calm.

"That two people really can't do the routine," Tara told her. "So we asked Wade if he had any more such kata routines. We were thinking of finding shorter routines that Ron or maybe Ron and one cheerleader could do during time outs."

"Okay, that's interesting," Kim admitted. "What have you come up with?"

"I don't have it down yet," Ron told her. "But you can see what I have so far."

"Go for it," Kim nodded.

In response, Ron walked out into the yard and Tara prepared a sound file on the computer. "Ready?" The blonde girl asked. At Ron's nod, she pressed a button.

Kim immediately saw the difference between the routine that had repelled the spirit and this one. The previous one had emphasized tumbling and gymnastic ability. This one was more 'feet on the ground' and martial arts movements. It still had the potential to be exciting and Tara was right, it could be an excellent distraction during a time out or other break in the action. Also, because Ron was only moving back and forth, not covering a great deal of area, another performer could join him.

"This is a good idea," Kim told the two blondes. "It could really work for a short break, and could give the cheer squad a little time if we need it."

"It needs work," Ron admitted. "But we're getting closer with it."

"You look like you've been working hard," Kim noted.

"Hey, Tara can be a real whip-cracker." Ron mock-complained.

Tara actually blushed. "He's getting close," she protested. "Whenever I tell him where he needs to correct something, he just goes after it."

Kim gave Ron a very hard look.

"I kind of enjoyed learning the last one," he shrugged. "And it made me realize that I should start taking these things more seriously. I should work out more, get into shape and then maybe I can be of more help on the missions."

"Uh, Tara?" Kim asked her friend. "Could you give us a moment? I need to talk to Ron about some mission issues."

"Sure," the blonde cheerleader looked a little unsure. "I'll just duck inside and...er...fill the water bottle!"

Picking up the said appliance, the perky cheerleader gave the other two teens the privacy to speak.

"Okay, what's up with you?" Kim asked her best friend.

"I don't get the problem," Ron answered. "We're not wasting your time with this routine, we were going to have it ready for you to watch..."

"So not what I'm talking about," Kim told him. "You never do homework until I make you do it, you don't work out and you don't plan ahead! What's going on, are you trying to impress Tara?"

"No!" Ron snapped back. "KP, about the homework, well, you're usually so far beyond me that you're just correcting me. Tara and I can work together and kind of learn, if you know what I mean. And after Friday, after sticking the routine I felt a kind of surge and I liked it. I felt really good and it made me think that I could do better if I worked at it."

"So you asked Tara to go over a new routine?"

"The two of us sort of came up with the idea yesterday while we were doing homework," he told her. "We had just finished studying and we started talking about the squad. She said that the routine was awesome and I should come up with something more. We started talking and we decided to try to come up with another one and have it ready for you to look at either Monday or Tuesday."

"She said something about having a routine that she could perform with you," Kim had a bit of a grin on her face while she was talking to her best friend.

"Yeah, that way I wouldn't be all alone out on the court...or even the field during next year's football games."

"And she said she'd be the one to do the duet with you?"

"Well, it was her idea," Ron was looking confused.

"You have some good ideas," Kim told him. "Do you want to talk about anything else, before Tara comes back?"

"Could we start sparring?" He asked. When Kim's eyes and mouth flew open, he quickly continued. "I saw how much tougher Junior got after just a little bit of training from Shego. I was hoping you could get me up to the point that I could be some real help."

"Okay, let me think about this," Kim told him. "Monday, I should have a chance to look at our schedules and figure out when we can work at this. Now, Tara's going to come out in a minute and it's getting late on a Sunday. You'll need to either offer to cook dinner for her or take her to Bueno Nacho."

"Oh, care to join us?"

"She won't appreciate it," Kim told him, shaking her head a little. "Trust me."

"I don't understand," he admitted.

"You will, eventually." Kim actually giggled. "I'll see the two of you Monday."

Ron was more than a little confused when Kim made a hasty exit, but he did as requested. He offered to make dinner for Tara and was surprised when she accepted. After the meal, the two teens went over their homework a little more which charmed Ron's parents when they showed up late. Ron was also confused when his father told him that he should offer to walk Tara home, but he did so anyway.

* * *

Later that night, Wade Lode reviewed the progress his network had made cross-referencing the information he had received from Fiske against other sources. He was starting to get an idea of what the spirit was capable of, and it wasn't looking good for the nobleman. So far, the youngster had uncovered the rites needed to redirect the spirit to a new target...and had promptly buried them under multiple firewalls. He knew who he was dealing with in Fiske and had no intention of letting the nobleman use this knowledge. He had also translated additional rites and rituals.

So far, he had sorted them into three categories: the first category, and by far the largest, were rites that were supposed to strengthen and improve the participants. The second was supposed to protect the participants and others from malevolent spirits. Strangely, the ritual that Ron had performed Friday fit into both categories. The third category was rituals that were supposed to call curses or other harm upon someone. Of course, these went into the same file, labeled 'family photos' and buried under multiple firewalls, as the redirection ritual.

There was a fourth file. It detailed no rituals or ceremonies, but a descriptions of what the spirit was supposedly capable of doing...as well as its limitations. At his heart, Wade was a scientist who did not believe in the supernatural. When seeing certain things, such as Ron's interaction with the mystical monkey power and other such supernatural phenomena, he was forced to change his attitude slightly. He still didn't believe in the supernatural. Rather, he believed that certain things, such as the spirit currently trailing Fiske, reacted to the natural world in ways different from what he used to consider normal. While he didn't understand why they interacted in the way they did, he sought to understand just what rules dictated their behavior.

For instance, this spirit could only travel under its own power. It was incapable of climbing on a ship or plane to make the trip to England. Wade didn't understand why, he simply accepted that this was the case; at least until proven otherwise. Wade didn't understand how it knew which direction it had to travel to reach its target. He just accepted that it had established some sort of psychic or spiritual link that led it to its goal. He fully understood that it was probably blind, since it was invisible, photos wouldn't react to optic nerves. There were also some limitations that Wade questioned, but would have to confirm. Still, he was ready to contact Fiske with some suggestions. With an evil grin, Wade decided that he would show the nobleman his power. While Fiske's castle wasn't wired, so to speak, the various utility company servicing it were. Wade flickered the power feeding the castle for a few minutes before calling him.

"It would appear you are trying to impress me," the nobleman stated, his visage appearing on one of Wade's screens. "May I ask what warrants such dramatic effort?"

"I've got a few things to ask you, Fiske," Wade told him. "If you're honest with me, we might come up with a solution to your problem."

"So what are your questions?" Fiske managed to sound both bored and demanding at the same time.

"According to both the writings and the tablets, the spirit will not rest until you are dead. The word for dead confuses me. I see the term used for both dead, crushed and destroyed. Do you know which it is?"

"It is used interchangeably for all of those terms," Fiske sounded much less bored.

"So we have no way of knowing if the spirit wants to kill you, crush you, or completely destroy your body," Wade concluded.

"This is hardly comforting or useful," Fiske informed him.

"Maybe it is," Wade countered. "Here's the first suggestion, do you know any medical professionals that you trust, completely?"

"I know nobody whom I trust, completely," Monty informed him.

"Too bad," Wade shrugged. "My first suggestion was to find a medical professional who could stop your heart. If the spirit will be satisfied with your death, it will quit hunting you. If the term means destroyed or crushed, not so much."

"That's actually promising," Fiske admitted. "Do you have any other ideas?"

"How well do you know Professor Dementor?" Wade asked.

"Only by reputation," Fiske answered. "Why?"

"He has managed to open portals between realities," Wade answered. "What if we were to be able to send the spirit to another reality? Would it be able to get back to pursue you?"

"Another promising suggestion," Fiske told him, his face showing a certain amount of respect.

That's all I have at this moment," Wade told him. "But I want you to build some fences around your castle. When it shows up, how it will react to those fences will confirm some other writings I've translated."

"What good will such knowledge do?" Fiske asked. "If I can stop my heart, the spirit will return to whichever hell it came from. If we manage to send it to another reality, it will be gone."

"And if neither work, don't you want to know more about what it is capable of and what its limitations are?" Wade countered.

"I indeed hate intelligent young people," Fiske grumbled. "Send the plans for the fences. I shall put my minions to work, immediately."

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for reading, and thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for beta reading this work._


	3. Chapter 3

"So, was it Bueno Nacho or your own cooking last night?" Kim asked her best friend, as the two walked to school.

"I made a simple, chicken, rice and vegetable stir fry," Ron said. "Tara seemed to like it; she even helped me with the dishes. After that, my folks showed up while we were reviewing our homework, why are you asking?"

"Did you walk her home afterwards?" Kim had a mischievous grin that made Ron feel a little uneasy.

"Yes," he answered. "Dad told me I should. What's the big deal?"

"I'm not done with my questions," Kim told him. "Describe what happened on the walk home."

"It was just a walk to her place," Ron said. "We talked about classes and the squad; routines and homework. When we got to the front door, she said that she had fun and we should get together again sometime. I agreed, so we decided to talk about our classes before practice tonight to decide when we should get together to help each other. We share most of our classes."

"Then what happened?" Kim's smile was absolutely predatory.

"I said good night, it was a little awkward at the door, she went inside and I went home," he shrugged. "What's the big deal?"

Kim shook her head in disgust, reached up and punctuated her next phrase with a series of pokes to his forehead.

"She," _poke_ , "was," _poke_ , "flirting", _poke_ , "with", _poke,_ "you."

"Oh, please," Ron shook his head, rubbing the assaulted point. "That would go against the rules."

"There are no rules," Kim rolled her eyes. "She's liked you, off and on, since we were freshmen. She doesn't have a boyfriend so why wouldn't she be flirting with you?"

"Because she's food chain elite and I'm a bottom feeder."

Ron held up one finger.

"Because she has the pick of the alpha males in school and I'm not one of them."

Another finger went up.

"Because her good friend Bonnie would give her no end of grief if she found out that we had spent an afternoon together, much less if she were to like me like me."

"Ron, we're going to have to talk," Kim shook her head again. They were getting close to the school and she didn't want anyone overhearing them. "You have a free period this afternoon and she does as well. Now, why don't you suggest to her that the two of you meet up in the library during that time to get a jump on your homework? You might get a nice surprise."

"Hi Kim, Hi Ron," the aforementioned blonde cheerleader greeted the two. She was juggling a large load of books and sure enough, before long Ron was carrying some of them for her. They were going to the same homeroom, after all. Kim just shook her head and determined that she was going to have to have an additional talk with her best friend before the end of the day.

"Hey girlfriend," Monique greeted her, walking up from behind. "Two questions, where's Ron and why are you staring down the hall with that fiendish grin...whoa, there's the boy. Why's he carrying books for Tara?"

"She's flirting with him," Kim told her female friend, pulling the last of her books our of her locker. "I had to point this out to him. He doesn't believe it, but she's flirting with him."

"It looks like you're pretty pleased with it," Monique noted.

"One of the nicest people in school is showing some interest in my best friend," Kim answered, setting her course for homeroom. "He hasn't had a date since Zita and that went south because Ron was so insecure. Why shouldn't I be happy that Ron has someone nice showing some interest?"

"I remember us teasing him mercilessly when he was crushing on Zita," Monique pointed out. "What's different here?" She fell in next to Kim as they walked through the school.

"Because I know that she's interested in him," Kim pointed out. "Because I know that she's a nice person. Because she seems to be good for him; he did his homework and wants to start working out more. Because she's my also my friend and he's a nice person as well. I just have to get it through his head that she isn't out of his league somehow."

"That might not be easy," Monique told her. "Tell you what, I'll keep my ears open, see if anyone's talking about them."

"Thanks, Mon." Kim smiled her appreciation and wandered into her homeroom.

The morning's classes went pretty much without incident, which was unusual in itself. Ron had not only done his homework, he had a solid grip on the classes, something that seemed to stymie Barken. Kim also watched the interaction between Tara and Ron. Tara was being discrete, but Kim noted the occasional glance Ron's way. Kim was sure that she wouldn't have noticed it if she wasn't looking for it. So far, it seemed that nobody else had noticed it. Kim smiled, it would be nice if Ron would have a girlfriend; she knew that he was lonely at times. She caught him at lunch time.

"So, did you ask Tara if she wanted to meet you for homework in the library during your free period?" She asked her friend.

"Yeah, she said yes, so what?" He asked. "Am I missing something here?"

Looking around, she grabbed him and dragged him into the storage closet they used for private conversations.

"What's wrong with you?" She demanded. "She's interested in you! She's flirting! Can't you see it?"

"KP, she's agreed to do homework with me and she's worked on a routine with me."

"And she's said that she wants to do a dual routine with you," Kim pointed out. "Ron, she's going out of her way to spend time with you."

"It's against the rules," Ron said. "Girls like that don't date guys like me."

"There! Are! No! Rules!" Kim snarled. "Don't you understand that?"

"I understand better than you," he snapped back. "Back when I was crushing on Zita, outside the theater. I told you we might date someday and you told me I thought too much and you never thought you'd ever say it!"

Kim stared at him, dumbfounded. One hand came up to her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry I said that..."

"Yeah, and there are no rules?" He shook his head. "You're the head cheerleader and not only is it unthinkable that I'd ever date you, I was an idiot for even thinking it."

"Okay, I was completely wrong for saying that," Kim apologized. "Bad choice of words. The fact is, a very nice girl wants to date you."

"Nice," Ron snorted.

"When has she done anything to you?" Kim was dumbfounded.

"How about calling me a loser when I was trying to warn everyone at Wannaweep...sorry, Gottagrin, about Gill?" Ron retorted. "That wasn't exactly nice! You and Bonnie were the only two on the squad who didn't."

"And that was because we were too busy trying to get to each other," Kim finished, remembering. "Okay, that wasn't exactly nice but you have to admit, you were claiming something awfully far-fetched."

"Yeah, warning them that Gil was up to something," Ron rolled his eyes as he recounted. "Why would anyone believe that Gil was up to something sinister? After all, it isn't like he had done it before, had he?"

The blonde boy opened his eyes wide in mock surprise.

"Why, he _had_ , hadn't he? He had captured the entire squad and tried to turn you all into mutants. Why, maybe the Middleton Squad _should_ have given me the benefit of the doubt!"

He glared at his friend. "Maybe I've finally gotten to the point that I realize that and should actually expect the benefit of the doubt."

"Okay, she was wrong for doing that," Kim told him. "I was wrong for my choice of words in the theater, but both of those things are in the past! This is now, Tara is cute and nice, why not take a chance?"

"Why is it that as soon as a pretty girl shows some interest, the loser guy is supposed to forget everything and jump in?" He asked. "Is that the way it is, pretty girl decides bottom feeder is going to be her boyfriend...now he is?"

"You're not a loser," She protested. "And why not? It's not as if you have a secret girlfriend...do you?"

"I don't thi...er...no, I don't."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" The redhead demanded.

"Nothing, don't mention it." Ron shook his head. "By the way, why are you so bossy about this? Why are you suddenly so interested in me getting a girlfriend?"

"Because you're my best friend and Tara is a sweet girl," Kim rolled her eyes again. "And because Tara is a friend of mine and you're a nice guy. I think the two of you will be happier if you get together. Is there anything wrong with me wanting my friends to be happy?"

"You realize that I have no idea how to treat a girlfriend," Ron pointed out. "I don't know much about the whole dating thing, but I've seen plenty of teens upset when they break up. I don't think that's going to make her very happy."

"Well, lucky for you, your best friend happens to be a girl who knows how she would like boys to treat her," Kim pointed out. "I'll give you some information from the other side, so to speak."

"It still seems wrong," Ron said. "Just out of the blue."

"Well, are you going to give it a chance?" Kim challenged.

"Fine, I'll try." He threw up his hands. "But if this is just a major misunderstanding on your part, you owe me two weeks of trips to Bueno Nacho. And if I understand the whole teen breakup thing, I'll be binge eating!"

"Deal!" Kim nodded. "Now, lets get something to eat."

The two friends went through the lunch line and Kim noted that Ron made an effort to actually eat healthy. They found an empty table and were soon joined my Monique. The newcomer and Ron started trading some barbs about Pain King vs Steel Toe, while Kim glanced around the lunchroom. Soon enough, Tara walked in and went through the line. Kim watched the blonde carefully while trying to not be obvious. Upon getting her food, Tara looked between Bonnie's "food chain elite" table and the table where the three were eating. Kim could almost _see_ Tara make the decision and head for her table.

"Do you mind if I join you guys?" Tara asked when she reached the table, interrupting Ron and Monique's argument about whether a suplex was worth more than a clothesline.

"Sure," Kim quickly agreed, noting that the only place for the blonde to sit was next to the other blonde. The redhead was pleased to note that Ron made sure that there was enough room for Tara.

She was also pleased to note that when Tara arrived, Ron started to use his fork like a fork; and not like a backhoe.

"So what have you been up to lately?" Monique asked the table's latest addition.

"Oh, thinking of some ideas to bounce off of Kim," Tara admitted. "Although, I'd like to hear about what's new at Club Banana."

The blonde took a bite of her sandwich while Ron barely restrained a groan. Even Kim flinched, mentally. It was risky to give Monique a fashion conversation opening THAT open-ended.

"Girl, the hoodies that have just come in are awesome!" Monique gushed. "And just in time for the colder weather!" The clothing store employee looked critically at the blonde girl for a moment. "Blue," she finally said. "We've got some blue ones perfect for bringing out your eye color!"

"I might have to come in and look this weekend, if I can find some time," Tara answered.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Kim asked the other cheerleader.

"I was just thinking of the routine Ron was working through," Tara told her. "I was playing the file last night and I think I've figured out how someone could join him and make it better."

"Uh, Tara?" Ron interrupted. "You remember that I'm not ready to perform it yet, right?"

"Of, course I do!" She gave him a playful swat on the shoulder. "But you're close enough that we can run through it after practice and see if Kim thinks if it has any potential."

"I'd be happy to take a few extra minutes," Kim told her. "The last one was great, but it's always nice to have something else to throw the crowd."

"And the judges," Ron added.

"And the judges," Kim agreed.

"Oh, but you stopped me after talking about the hoodies," Monique spoke up again. "You can't believe the jeans and tops we have! Here, I have an idea!"

Monique pulled out her phone and took a picture of Tara.

"There! If I have some time this week, I'll come up with a selection that compliments you! If you drop by this weekend, you're free to browse but this might narrow things down."

"Thanks," Tara looked honestly grateful.

"Well ladies, I'm finished," Ron announced. "Although I like the company, I'm afraid I'm not going to be of much use when it comes to where the conversation is leading."

"Study session in the library during sixth?" Tara asked him, as he got up.

"Wouldn't miss it," Ron assured her.

"Whoa!" Monique chimed in. "Since when do _you_ do homework ahead of time?"

"Since it frees up more time to work on routines," he answered, before taking his tray and walking off.

"Okay, who just replaced that boy with a pod person?" Monique asked. "He is not acting like a slacker."

"I think it's kind of cute," Tara told her.

"I'd like to see him live up to his potential," Kim added.

"Anyway, back to more important things," Monique said. "We have accessories to die for!"

Kim and Tara listened, partly amused and partly interested, and Monique described the merchandise. Finally, they realized that they were going to have to get to their next classes. As they left, Kim managed a private word with Monique.

"Do you have a private line to Crystal?" Kim asked.

"Why's this?" Monique asked.

"I realized something today," Kim told her. "The squad really hurt Ron a while back and it won't look good if I call them out on it. Crystal is about the most independent girl on the squad and if she realizes she did something offensive, she's the most likely to do something about it."

"Okay, what was the offense?" Monique wanted to know. Kim told her about the squad calling their mascot a loser.

"And after Gil had a proven track record," Kim told her. "I didn't believe him, either."

"That is a little on the harsh side," Monique agreed. "And nobody apologized?"

"Nobody but me," Kim told her.

"Okay, I think I can arrange to have her overhear me mention that Ron was a little upset about not being believed. What's this going to do?"

"Potentially?" Kim told her. "Remove a roadblock."

Cheer practice when well that night. The squad was still pumped about their outstanding performance on Friday and were determined to improve for upcoming competitions. Kim didn't have to focus them at all. She watched both Tara and Crystal. She noticed both girls steal an occasional glance towards Ron, who was working on his own routines.

For the most part, Ron's routine was not part of the cheerleader's routine, so he repeated the drill he had performed Friday. Since nobody was watching him, nobody noticed his smile every time he performed it correctly. He then switched to the next routine, even though he didn't have it perfected yet. He wanted to be able to show something to KP. If he did, she would approve of him learning more ceremonial routines and that meant that Wade was sure to translate more for him.

"Okay, it's almost quitting time!" Kim announced to the squad. "That was great from everyone! We are so going to wow the judges in the competition two weeks from now!"

The rest of the squad cheered while Ron walked over to join them.

"Hit the showers and call it a night!"

"Kim, could I say something?" Crystal interrupted. "It has to do with the whole squad, Ron included."

"Sure thing," Kim answered. She tried to look curious, but she was pretty sure she knew what the other cheerleader had to say.

"We all remember the competition at Gottagrin," Crystal began, not pulling any punches. "We all know what Gil did, and we all know that Ron tried to warn us. I want to say that I was calling Ron a loser. I was wrong. After what Gill had done before, I should have believed Ron."

She turned and faced Ron directly. "I owe you an apology and although this doesn't make up for what I did, I'm sorry Ron and I'm glad you still went through what you did to save us, anyway."

Most of the other cheerleaders simply looked between Ron and Crystal.

"Thanks," Ron was finally able to say. "I appreciate it."

Why did you have to come out and take up the whole squads' time?" Bonnie protested.

"I called him a loser in front of the entire camp," Crystal told her. "The least I can do is apologize in front of the entire squad. If we're done here, I need that shower."

Kim nodded. "Ron and Tara, I think you had something to show me."

"Right," Ron said, snapping out of his reverie. "Why don't I show you what I've got so far?"

Kim nodded, and Ron jumped into the routine. Immediately, Kim could see the potential of using Ron, in the Mad Dog costume, to entertain the crowd if the rest of the squad needed a break. Of course, it wasn't complete but it was definitely worth pursuing, and she told him so.

"Okay, here's how I would like to be part of this," Tara told her. Ron lined up and started again, and Tara started to execute what she had planned.

This time, the routine was even more incomplete but Kim could see the potential, once again.

"If the two of you can find the time to polish this up, you're onto something," Kim admitted. "I'm not ready to devote squad practice time to it...yet. But if you can refine it, it will make a great entertainment routine for time outs or other short breaks in the game."

"It would also make a good piece to do while the rest of the squad is taking the floor for a competition," Bonnie added. As much as the brunette loved to cut down Kim and Ron, she enjoyed cheerleading and winning competitions even more.

"It would, wouldn't it?" Kim murmured. "Do the two of you mind working on this on your own time?" She asked the two blondes.

"Not at all," Tara told her.

"I'm game," Ron agreed.

"Okay, hit the showers you two," she told them.

"Maybe someone besides Tara could do the routine with Ron," Bonnie suggested.

"No, I've come up with it, I'll do it," Tara told her, walking past her friend towards the locker room. Bonnie looked stunned; Kim and Ron just shared a surprised look before shrugging their shoulders and going to the respective locker rooms.

After showering and dressing, Ron waited for KP so that they could walk home. While waiting, the rest of the squad filed out, most offering him small waves or polite nods, with the exception of Bonnie, who glared at him as she marched out the door. Finally, KP and Tara showed up.

"I missed my ride," Tara admitted. "I...don't like the long walk in the dark. Ron, would you mind walking me home again?"

"No problem," he said, getting to his feet. "KP, are you okay with this?"

"I tangle with supervillains on a weekly basis," she quipped. "I'm fine for a short walk in the dark."

"In that case," Ron put on an air of false bravado, let it never be said that Ron Stoppable failed a lady in need." He offered his arm. Laughing, Tara wound her arm through his and the two walked off into the night.

Once outside the gym, in the chilly darkness, they continued to walk and Tara got a rather pensive look on her face. A couple of times, she seemed ready to say something but stopped. Finally, when they were about halfway to their destination, she managed to speak.

"Ron," she asked, a slight quaver in her voice. "Were you really upset when the squad called you a loser at Gottagrin?"

"A little," he admitted. "But it's all water under the bridge, isn't it?"

"Not to me," she told him. "I shouldn't have called you that. You had saved us all from Gill before, so I should have believed you when you said that Gil was up to something."

"Well, no harm done," Ron shrugged. Strangely, he was uncomfortable with her apology.

"I'm glad of that," she said. "What if that doctor...what was his name?"

"Lurkin."

"What if Dr. Lurkin hadn't been able to turn you back?" She looked honestly concerned.

"Well, being a beaver mutant wasn't that bad," he shrugged. "Of course, I still think trees look tasty."

"Seriously?" Tara looked like she didn't quite believe that one.

"Seriously," he assured her. "Ever since then, I can tell the difference between real maple syrup and the artificial stuff. It all comes from looking at trees as food."

"Are you kidding me?" She demanded, now with a smile.

"Would I do that?" He asked. He had to admit that her smile made it hard to keep track of what he was saying.

"Yes you would," she mock-pouted. "If it would get us by the awkward moment of me admitting that I was wrong back then." She looked up at his shocked expression. "You don't think I've noticed when you use jokes and clowning around to get by awkward moments?"

"Well..."

By this time, they had reached her house. Ron walked her right up to the front step. She hopped onto the step then spun around, preventing him from stepping up and putting them more or less on the same level.

"Ron, I treated you badly back then and I apologize," she said. "But I have to apologize even more for not realizing how bad it was until someone pointed it out to me. You did your best for us but only got scorn in return. That's not right."

"Well, its all better now," he told her. "I eventually got over it."

"Ron," she now seemed very unsure of herself. "I think that you're very nice, and I'd like to get to know you better."

"Tara, are you saying that you wouldn't mind going out on a date with me sometime?" Ron decided to go for broke, to either put an end to this little friendly phase or find out if she had decided to ignore the rules.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," she offered a smile.

"Okay," he said. "What about this weekend? You realize that I might need some help figuring out what to do on a date?"

"We'll come up with something fun," she assured him. Then, she looked a little pensive again.

Suddenly, Ron felt a little emboldened. He leaned forward slightly and suddenly found himself exchanging a short but oh-so-sweet kiss with the lovely blonde. His eyes flew wide.

"Ron," she giggled, seeing his expression. "Was that the first time a girl has ever kissed you on the mouth?"

"Y-Y-Y..."

His efforts to answer were cut off by another one.

"Then you're overdue," she whispered, before turning and opening the door. "See you tomorrow," she said, before closing the door behind her.

It took Ron a few minutes to realize that he now had to walk home. After turning and walking to the end of the sidewalk, he took a few more minutes to remember which direction he had to turn to go home. The walk home seemed to take only moments, despite the fact that he was having trouble navigating. After dinner and homework, he decided that the good day entitled him to slip out to the back yard and run through his routines a time or two.

* * *

"Young man, you have provided me with plans for some complicated fences and electronics," Fiske addressed Wade. "The instructions for constructing these barriers are almost as complex. Do you care to explain the need for this complexity? It is very difficult to get monkeys to perform these actions."

"I'm trying to confirm and clarify some of my translations about the spirit's limitations." Wade told him. "For one thing, it shouldn't be able to pass through a fence, only through a gate."

"If this is correct, my problem is already solved," Fiske sounded pleased. "I can simply build a fence around my castle with openings, not gates. I will repair the opening every time I enter and be safe from the spirit." He paused a moment. "Even better, I could lure the spirit into a fenced enclosure, repair the opening after it enters and have it trapped."

"That sounds like it should work, but I don't think it will," Wade countered. "Apparently, once the target, or one who built the wall or fence crosses a point...once the fence or wall is under construction, that point has become a gate, or doorway, as far as the creature is concerned. It will be able to smash its way through."

"That's inconvenient," Fiske admitted. "And also explains your complex instructions."

"Yes," Wade agreed. "The translations don't make a distinction between a fence and a wall and fences are easier and quicker to construct. I want to confirm the definition of 'gate', so that's why I wanted your monkeys to only climb over specific points...to see if the spirit will break through at those points. The idea is to be able to track it through the maze and determine what laws dictate its movement through barriers."

"Very thorough," Fiske actually complimented him. "Is there some reason for the exact alignment of the pathways you want constructed?"

"Additional research suggests that spirits such as these can only travel in the cardinal directions," Wade told him. "Due north, south, east and west. I wanted several of these pathways to run diagonally to the cardinal directions, again to confirm this. If your course of action at your castle doesn't work, this might be a very useful piece of information."

"Indeed," Fiske nodded. "I have contacted Professor Dementor and he is willing to make the attempt...for a very steep price."

"Considering that it might save your life, I have a hard time commiserating about your spending," Wade snapped back.

"It was you who provided the pretender with the ritual that set this thing upon me," Fiske pointed out, with an infuriating air of injured superiority.

"After you set it on my friends," Wade pointed out. "Don't blame anyone else for the direction it took, once you put it on the table."

"I am not convinced," Fiske told the youngster. "But arguing will not accomplish anything. It appears that we must prepare for the day that this spirit reaches my castle."

When he broke the connection, Fiske spent several minutes wondering if perhaps he had gone too far in calling forth a malevolent spirit against his foes. Deciding that such contemplation wasn't worth the effort, he left to oversee the construction of the fences and the installation of the cameras that Mr. Lode had suggested.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for once again answering my call for beta reading._


	4. Chapter 4

"So?" Kim asked Ron, as soon as they left her house on the way to school.

"Do I really have to answer?" Ron protested.

"Yes," she smirked right back at him.

"Okay, fine, she agreed to go out on a date with me and she agreed to help me figure out what we would do for it." He shook his head. "Should I be concerned about all the interest you're showing in my love life?"

He suddenly stopped. "Do I actually have a love life now?"

Laughing, Kim grabbed his arm and got him moving again.

"Bounce some of your ideas for a date off of me," Kim suggested. "I'll help you decide what to bring up to her, later today."

"KP, aren't you getting sort of...well...creepily interested in Tara and me?" He asked her. "I haven't even asked my folks if I can borrow their car yet and you're trying to make sure I make a good impression."

"It would seem creepy if it weren't for one little detail," Kim's laughter and smile faded. "Ron, you gave me the courage to speak to my crush and set up a date. In return, I locked you in that supply closet overnight. The least I can do is help you get started on the right foot with Tara. To be honest, I owe it to her, as a friend, to help the two of you get started on the right foot."

"Started on the right foot," Ron mused. "That reminds me, I was thinking dinner and a movie...or maybe a movie and dinner. Should I fit dancing in there, somewhere?"

"If that's the case, dinner is going to have to be light," Kim pointed out. She pulled out her Kimmunicator and used the WiFi to look over available movies that weekend. "Friday night is a game, so the two of you probably want to wait until Saturday for your date. Here are some movies I think she'd like."

"Wait a minute," Ron interrupted. "What are you going to be doing on Saturday night?"

"Josh has asked me out," she admitted. "I'll admit that I'm working with you to avoid running into each other. I think the four of us might want to double date sometime later, but right now it might get a little awkward. I think Tara will want you all to herself to start with."

"You're scaring me, KP. I want you to know that."

Kim just laughed and the two friends discussed what they thought Tara would enjoy, while walking the rest of the way to school. Somehow, planning the date with Kim made Ron strangely more comfortable with the fact that he actually had a date. Of course, they ran into Tara at school and once again, Ron wound up carrying her books for her, something that Kim was perfectly fine with. Ron was a little on the confused side, wondering why his best friend seemed to be more excited about him getting a girlfriend than he was. Still, he had to admit that Tara was a very nice person and seemed to be a lot of fun to be with.

Monday and Tuesday went fine for Ron; the free period that he and Tara spent on homework meant that he had very little to do after school. He continued to work his routines during cheer practices and Tara took some extra time, after the squad practice, to work with him to integrate herself into his new routine. Of course, the extra time after practice meant that he was obligated to walk her home afterwards. Something seemed so incredibly right about walking through the chilly, dark evening with her holding his arm. There was something so sweet about the quick, innocent kiss they would share when they reached her house. Maybe KP was right and he should pursue this. It made running through his routine at night seem even nicer.

Wednesday, things took a bit of a harsh turn. After cheer practice it was time to go to Kim's dojo for martial arts training. Ron was still worn out from cheer practice, but Kim and the Sensei had no mercy whatsoever! While KP pretty much handed him his...well...she outclassed him so badly that it wasn't funny, he actually held his own against the Sensei. Although they were exhausted, KP and him felt almost like kids as they walked home through the season's first snowfall. It was late by the time he finished what little homework remained and, for some reason, it felt right to slip outside and run through the ceremony again, barefoot, in the new snow.

On Thursday after school, Ron worked on the new routine in full costume while making sure he could still do the old routine. Kim had the entire squad perform the competitions routine, followed by Ron performing the one that had inadvertently saved their lives last week. Everything was ready for tomorrow night's game and for next weekend's competition. Afterwards, Kim had Tara and Ron perform the new, duet routine. The rest of the squad decided that while it could use some more work, they should perform it during the game tomorrow. Ron and Tara were very happy as he walked her home again.

Upon getting home, Ron ran through his routines in the backyard again, but didn't get the satisfaction from them that he had been. Confused and disappointed, he went to bed but couldn't sleep. He kept looking at his book bag, where his algebra book and the few homework questions he hadn't been able to finish were waiting. Giving up on sleep, he pulled out the book and finished his assignment. With a strange feeling, he sneaked out the back door and performed his routines in the back yard again. This time, he felt the satisfaction that he had come to crave. Now happy, he sneaked back to his room and a deep, undisturbed sleep.

Friday saw him with a sense of deep anticipation. He had performed as the mad dog dozens of times. He had performed the initial routine in front of an audience once before, to major approval. Tonight, he and Tara were going to do the dual routine at least once during a timeout or other short break. For some reason, the idea of doing the dual routine with a girl who wanted to date him made him nervous. If he flubbed it, he would make her look foolish and then where would they be?

Of course, that last thought brought up odd implications; wondering where they would _be_ sort of implied that they were somewhere, _now_.

Still, the routine that he had gotten into helped him through the day. The library study session that he and Tara had established meant that the weekend would see very little distraction from studies and she assured them that they would be great on the court that evening. He shared a squeeze of the hand with her and managed to put his mind on his homework again.

While he wound up with algebra homework to take home again, he was pretty much on top of the academics when he left school. There would be no cheer practice that afternoon and he was a little disappointed that Tara choose to catch a ride home with Bonnie and Hope, rather than let him walk her home. He decided that he couldn't demand all of her time and caught a quick snack at Bueno Nacho on the way home, himself. Once home, he indulged in a little bit of digital zombie bashing, amazed by how much his skill had deteriorated since he had decided to take his workouts more seriously. Deciding that he wasn't accomplishing very much laying around the house, he went back to the gym.

Of course, the basketball players were warming up, so Ron went to the side gym that the cheerleaders used to warm up ahead of time. He went through his routine slowly and easily, loosening up his muscles while waiting for the rest of the squad. Kim was the first, as was her usual practice, followed by everyone else. They went through their routines again, making sure that they would be ready for the game, then it was time to move.

For the most part, cheering for the game went as usual, with Kim judging the audience's moods and calling for cheers and routines that matched it. During a timeout in the second quarter, she called for Ron and Tara to do their dual routine. There wasn't much interaction between Tara and Ron; the routine consisted of a tumbles, flips and other moves. Ron, in the full mad dog costume, performed them behind Tara when viewed from the home stands. While Ron went left to right, Tara went right to left. The only interaction between the two was a the end, when Ron performed a somersault towards the stands, ending kneeling on one knee. Tara did a back flip and ended sitting on Ron's extended leg, one arm thrown over his shoulders.

The crowd responded with applause that wasn't exactly thundering, but was more enthusiastic than merely polite. The two ran off the court as the teams came back on, to the congratulations of their squad mates.

"Good job," Kim told them. "I'd like you to keep working on this; get some more interaction between the two of you. It's fine now but has the potential to be a great deal more."

At halftime, they performed the competition routine again, followed by the ceremonial routine Ron had perfected those weeks ago. Again, the band's drummers hammered out the beat while the cheerleaders clapped and foot-stomped their way off of the court. Again, some of the crowd joined in the clapping and upon completion, Ron once again felt the energizing jolt he felt whenever he got it right in front of the crowd. Once again, to loud applause, he rushed off of the court.

The rest of the game proved to be standard as far as cheers were concerned. Kim was a good judge of keeping the crowd just entertained enough by the squad to not lose track of the game. There were a couple of routines, in which Ron performed his usual tumbling to compliment the rest. Finally, the game was over and the squad met in the side gym.

"Good job, everyone," Kim congratulated the squad. "We hit it perfect again, so we're going to be so ready to rock the competition next week!"

Everyone else clapped for themselves.

"Let's have a good weekend but, like Mr. Barkin says, don't enjoy ourselves too much. We want to be ready to go on Monday."

Tara found Ron and gave him another peck on the cheek. "See you tomorrow afternoon," she smiled at him. "Bonnie's invited Hope and me to her place to watch some movies and indulge in some girl talk. I hope you don't mind?"

"Why should I mind?" He asked. "Spend time with your friends!"

She simply gave him a peck on the other cheek, balancing things out, and joined the aforementioned two cheerleaders. To Ron's shock, both Bonnie and Hope offered him friendly smiles as they left.

"Wanna hit Bueno Nacho, KP?" He asked his friend.

"I'm meeting Josh," Kim told him. "Will you be okay alone?"

"Hey, I sidekick for a girl who fights super villains on a weekly basis," he reminded her. "I think I can make it home in the dark!"

She gave him a fond pat on the shoulder while she left. Ron left as well, sharing a high-five with Crystal.

To his own surprise, Ron felt no need to grande-size his naco meal when he stopped at his favorite fast food oasis. Also, the nacos seemed just a little unpleasantly greasy to him. Still, he ate every bite before going home. Once home, he found that he couldn't sleep; it was as if he needed one last bit of the rush his routines gave him. Not seeing any harm, he slipped outside and performed them, yet again, in the back yard but did not get the rush he had become accustomed to. Remembering the last time, he returned to his room and did the last of his algebra homework. Then returning to the back yard, he was able to perform his routine, feel the rush and go back to bed for a good night's sleep.

Saturday morning, he went to temple with his parents, followed by a sparring session at KP's dojo. Again, KP pretty much wiped the floor with him but he could stand up to the sensei. Kim told him that he should attend classes every Wednesday night and every Saturday morning, whenever possible. Ron agreed, hoping to get better on the missions. After training, it was time to go home, eat lunch and borrow his dad's car to pick up Tara.

The two had decided on a matinee, followed by an early dinner and dancing at a teen club. The matinee they had agreed on was a romantic comedy which Ron found that he enjoyed. He was very nervous at first, wondering if he should put his arm around his date. His blood pressure probably went up ten points when he placed his arm around her, then returned to normal when she smiled and slid a little closer to him. He decided that he needed some practice at this, since her head rested on his shoulder in just the perfect place to put his arm asleep. Still, there was no way he was going to move that arm during the movie. He just discreetly worked the arm, trying to get the feeling back, while she was visiting the ladies room after the movie.

Dinner was just as enjoyable as the movie. The two chatted, with Tara telling him about some times that Bonnie's ego and sense of entitlement had gotten her into embarrassing situations. Of course, Ron had experienced enough misadventures to fill a decent sized novel and he shared some of them with this very pretty blonde. It got to the point that she was laughing so hard that she was in danger of nose-squirting her soda onto her plate and had to tell him to stop. For all that, she was smiling when they left, claiming his arm and holding it, making him glad that he had gotten the feeling back in the appendage.

He found the dancing to be intimidating at first. While his work on the squad had given him some solid moves, he felt more than a little self-conscious dancing...as him...in a crowd. When he was with the squad, he was part of a group, had a choreographed routine to follow and had the wonderful anonymity of the mad dog costume to hide behind. Here, he was out on a floor, close to everyone and he was...him. What was more intimidating was Tara; a picture of pure grace and joy as she moved to the music in an absolutely mesmerizing way. Still, she smiled at him fondly rather than in a condescending manner.

"You move so well," he commented, when they took a break. "I could just sit here and watch you all night."

"Oh no you don't," she smiled and showed just a touch of a blush. "I want to dance with you."

They weren't going steady and there were plenty of other teens they knew in the crowd, so the two danced with several other people during the evening. Still, Tara seemed to open up a little more and dance a little closer whenever she danced with him. All too early it was time to call it quits and return her home.

When Ron drove her home, he was more than reluctant to say goodnight. Instead of having him leave, Tara checked in with her parents before asking him to sit with her on a porch swing for awhile. It was cold out, but a blanket was already on the swing, leading the boy to believe that she had planned things out just a little. Soon, they sat under the blanket, his arm around her while they looked up into the cold, clear night sky. Both were perfectly warm.

Ron couldn't say how long they sat on the swing or recall everything they talked about. He definitely remembered the point at which they started kissing. He remembered her hand sliding up behind his head, pulling him gently but firmly close and the taste of her mouth. When she broke the kiss, she tucked her head under his chin, resting her head against his chest with a sigh of contentment. He wished they could stay there all night but all too soon, the alarm on his watch went off, warning him that he had a curfew to meet, as well. She seemed equally reluctant for him to leave, kissing him goodnight/goodbye and seeing him off.

All in all, Ron Stoppable had to consider his first, real date to be a success.

* * *

Bells sounded throughout Fiske's castle, calling him, his minions, and his guest awake.

Despite the fact that he had been sleeping more and more poorly as this indeterminate date drew closer, Fiske was on out of his bed and on his feet in seconds. He was pulling on his clothing as he rushed out of his bedroom door and ran to his study, and the bank of television screens awaiting him. He prepared to bellow for his minions to get into position, but he realized that the countless drills he and young Mr. Lode had put them through were paying dividends at the moment. Every primate was in place or almost there.

Every primate but one.

"Is dat vat I'm thinking that it is?" Professor Dementor demanded of his increasingly unwelcoming host.

"It is either the alarm we have been awaiting or someone has installed two hundred and twenty-eight telephones in my castle, all of which are ringing at once!" Fiske sneered at the short man. "What do you think?"

Was it the bucket on his head that brought on these moments of idiocy or was it perhaps his short stature? Maybe being so short, he was forced to breath more carbon dioxide than was healthy, affecting his reasoning. Taking his position in the control room, Fiske turned off the alarms while scanning the screens in front of him. Mr. Lode's face appeared on one screen.

"Due west," Wade reported. "I'm deploying the drones now."

Fiske focused his attention on the screen the youngster had indicated and sure enough, the west gate had been forced open. Moments later, drone feeds appeared on the screen, showing footprints appearing in the soil. Fiske reached another control and activated the floodlights, bathing his fenced in yard in a harsh gleam.

"Is everyone in place," Mr. Lode asked.

"Everyone but a certain German," Fiske quipped. "He seems to have forgotten where we agreed for him to be."

"You'll not be goading me that much for very much longer," the professor growled. But he did spin on his heel and stalk out of the room.

"It might not be a good idea to aggravate a physicist of his capabilities," Wade warned the nobleman.

"He is a diminutive blowhard!" Fiske snapped. "While I am a master of Tai Shen Pek Kwar! What fear need I have of him?"

"He's also developed an electromagnetic rail propulsion device that could be weaponized," Wade pointed out.

"Speak English, please," Fiske grumbled.

"It means that he could loft a three hundred kilogram mass into a ballistic trajectory at very near orbital velocity," Wade noticed the Englishman's irritated look. "Okay, your martial arts training might not have covered this and being an archaeologist, you probably didn't take any math beyond trigonometry. When a three hundred kilogram mass strikes your castle at roughly fifteen times the speed of sound, the kinetic energy released will be somewhere between 'Oh My God' and Hiroshima."

"He could do that?" Fiske looked just a little less sure of himself.

"I don't see why not," Wade shrugged. "I could. It would take me nearly 72 hours to assemble, but I could it. Anyway, we're getting off of the topic at hand. It looks like we translated things correctly' the spirit seems unable to cross fences and it's walking diagonally to the pathways, suggesting that it can only travel along the cardinal directions."

"And it is approaching one of the points where my monkeys clambered over the fence," Fiske added.

"Well, there's one question answered," Wade commented after a few minutes. "If a primate climbs over the fence at any point, that point becomes a weak point that the spirit can force open."

"I hate to admit that I find myself admiring your thoroughness," Fiske murmured. "It is now reaching another of your test points. Ah! It broke through the fence where I had my monkeys set the posts, pass through the gap, then install the woven wire."

"I think that we can conclude that once a fence, or a wall, is set into place, any primate climbing over or through creates a weak point, at least according to the rules that the spirit must follow." Wade commented.

"Very interesting," Fiske agreed, his scientific curiosity momentarily overcoming his animosity towards Mr. Lode. "I wonder how close said primate must be to the barrier? For instance, if an aircraft were to pass over such a barrier, would it create the weak point?"

"Something I didn't think to test," Wade admitted. "Also, will the weak point rule hold true if there is a true gap in the barrier? In other words, if there is a gate, will the spirit go for the actual gate or use the weak point?"

"I failed to consider these issues, as well." Fiske's voice showed no sign of irritation or condescension. "Let us hope that we don't have the opportunity to test it."

He pressed a control, activating smoke generators. Moments later, the spirit could be seen as a hollow in the smoke, moving through the billowing clouds.

"Professor Dementor," Fiske keyed a microphone. "Are you in position and observing the target?"

"Ja!" A voice sounded through the speakers. "I have mien ray locked onto der target point. Estimated time for target to arrive, thirty eight seconds...mark!"

"He could have just said he was ready," Wade commented, from the far side of the world.

"You have no idea what conversations with him are like," Fiske shook his head. "Breakfast time is horrid. Who but he would eat sauerkraut for breakfast?"

"You seem awfully calm," Wade observed. "If this doesn't work, you'll be fleeing for your life."

"As per your instructions, my escape is fully prepared," Fiske shrugged. "We are now getting some idea of the limitations that our invisible guest labors under."

The two watched as the invisible spirit, observable due to the smoke swirling around it, approached the pre-selected target point.

"Firing!" Professor Dementor's joyous shout sounded through the speaker.

Outside the castle, it seemed like a hole in the air opened where the spirit strode forward. The hollow in the smoke vanished; smoke rushed into the gap and disappeared. Suddenly, the hole vanished, leaving the smoke to swirl around the disturbed point.

"Direct hit," the professor commented, his voice smug.

"It would appear that your suggestion worked," Fiske told the youngster on the far side of the world. "And Professor Dementor, it would appear that your hardware and skill are everything you have claimed, several times. My thanks to the two of you, every pound I spent has been well worth..."

Suddenly, the monkey-shaped hole in the smoke re-appeared.

"It would appear that der target can cross dimensional boundaries!" Professor Dementor shouted over the speaker. "I am re-calibrating for a second target point and a second alternate reality!"

"Lord Fiske, could I suggest you have one of your monkeys start your car?" Wade said. "You might be wanting to leave, shortly."

"Excellent suggestion, young man." Monty was scared, but maintained his composure in front of Kim Possible's technical man and his own minions. "Chippy, go start the car and make sure the doors are unlocked this time. Tommy, make sure my escape bag is ready."

Two monkeys scrambled off.

"Target approaching der secondary aiming point!" Professor Dementor notified them. "Firing!"

Again, a hole in the air opened, drawing smoke and the spirit into it. This time, the hole had an evil, red tint to it. Again, the hole vanished and smoke continued to swirl. Three humans, and several other simians, watched in rapt attention.

"It vas able to re-appear by this time, der last time," Professor Dementor noted.

"So what does it mean?" Wade asked. "Does it take longer to return from this new dimension or is it unable to return at all?"

"I would have to say that it just takes longer," Fiske kept his voice calm, even though his heart had dropped into his stomach. Again, the hole in the smoke had appeared.

"I have vun more shot," Professor Dementor announced. The lights in the castle dimmed. "Dis vill be der farthest dimension! I must draw all available energy!"

Wade and Monty watched as the spirit broke another gate and continued, now mere meters from Fiske's front door.

"Firing!" Dementor's voice sounded once again.

This time the lights went out and Fiske found himself in a room illuminated only by the television screens. This time, the hole in reality had a sickly, greenish tint to it and once again, the spirit vanished. Again, the hole in reality vanished, once again.

"I'm forced to wonder if we did a wise thing," Fiske admitted. "Will the spirit return in minutes, hours, days or even years from now, when my guard is down?"

"Better a threat you know than one you're not expecting," Wade agreed. "You know Fiske, I would almost feel sorry for you if you hadn't planned on catching my friends by surprise with this very spirit."

"Feel free to confront me later," Fiske told him.

"Der creature had returned from the first alternate dimension at this time...mark!" Dementor's voice sounded.

"You've been timing from the first attempt?" Wade asked, as Fiske's lights came back on.

"Of course!" Dementor's voice sounded smug. "I am a professional physicist!"

Neither Wade nor Fiske had a witty rejoinder, as they hadn't been timing the target. Instead, they watched the screens until...

"Time on der second incident," Dementor announced. "Continuing to monitor."

"It would be so much easier to cheat him of his fees if he wasn't so bloody thorough," Fiske grumbled to Wade. "He's despicable, but a complete professional. You get everything he promises...even a bit more."

"Just to be on the safe side," Wade suggested. "Have you thought of taking a short vacation? Maybe leave your monkeys to keep your property up, leave the monitoring equipment in place, and leave for a few months? That way, if the spirit returns it won't be right under your feet."

"I was thinking that an extensive visit to the temples and priests devoted to Hanuman, all through India, may be in order," Fiske replied. "While I will remain here for another few hours, watching. Perhaps a nice, five-week trip to immerse myself in a more peaceful monkey deity might be in order."

"Either put der vacation plans on hold or execute them right now!" Dementor shouted over the speakers. "Something's coming through!"

Sure enough, the swirling smoke revealed that the spirit had returned.

"Mr. Lode, please contact Mr. Killigan and let him know that I will be imposing upon him to be his guest, like we had planned." Fiske told the younger man. "To my faithful monkey ninjas, don't impede the invader's progress, he isn't after you. Simply repair any damage it inflicts upon my property. Professor Dementor, simply stay out of the spirit's way. When you return to your lair, you will find the agreed upon funds shifted to an account you can access."

The front door of the Fiske's castle shattered, the thick wood turning to fragments that tore into the furnishings in his great hall. Safe for the moment in his study, Fiske watched the display on a screen for a moment before turning towards his bedchamber.

Once in his bedroom, the nobleman threw a prepacked backpack over his shoulders and grabbed two bags. As he left the bedroom's back door, one of the doors in his main hall shattered. Walking swiftly but not running, Fiske descended his back stairs and exited through a rear door. Chippy had his car running and the trunk open, just outside the garage. Picking up the pace a bit, Fiske quickly tossed his baggage into the trunk, closed it and hopped into the drivers seat.

"We are about to spend a couple of weeks in Scotland," the nobleman informed Chippy and the other two monkeys that accompanied him. "It will take the spirit much less time to reach Killigan's Island than it took it to reach us here. Still, I have another plan. Of course, this plan involves a great deal more risk for me."

While he had left his abode many times in his life, Fiske had never been forced out of it. The castle, receding in his rear-view mirror, was the saddest sight of his life.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for reading. Fond thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for his beta efforts._


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Among other things in this chapter, I'm assuming that Killigan's Island lies off of Scotland's east coast. If KP canon places it in a different location, please let me know._

* * *

"And the winner of this years east-central regional cheer competition is...the Middleton Mad Dogs cheer squad!"

All of the assembled cheerleaders applauded, but only those from Middleton seemed to really mean it as they rushed onto the stage to accept the trophy. Ron hung towards the back of the group, the Mad Dog head under one arm, the award for best mascot in the other hand and a smile on his face. The girls embraced each other, squealing in excitement, even Bonnie and Kim. Ron hung back, letting them have their moment until Tara rushed back and bodily dragged him into the excited bunch.

As captain, Kim stepped forward to accept the large trophy. Ron stepped back while a photographer worked to arrange the squad for the photos. It was Crystal that shouted for him to get into the photo. In the end, Ron lay on his side in front of the squad with the Mad Dog head in front of his chest and his award in front of the Mad Dog head. The rest of the squad stood in a line behind him and the photos were taken. With another round of hugs and high-fives, the Middleton cheer squad left the stage for the dressing rooms.

The locker room set aside for the males was considerably less crowded than any of the female locker rooms, so Ron was able to hit the shower without standing in line. Finished, he accepted numerous handshakes and congratulations from his fellow mascots and some male cheerleaders while getting dressed. In a way, he was nervous, since district competition would take place in January and KP was sure to be cranking up her expectations, driving the squad to meet the increased level of competition.

With less competition for shower and locker space, Ron was ready to leave well before any of the rest of the squad. He ducked out the front door and located where Barkin had the Middleton bus just warming up. It was cold, so after loading his bag and the costume in in the luggage compartment, he promised the vice principal that he would gather the squad when they got out of the showers. Back in the lobby, he waited until all the squad was ready before leading them, at a fast walk, back to the bus. Soon, the bus was loaded and Barkin drove the squad to a cafe for a quick meal before the six hour ride back to Middleton.

Once fed, the squad filed back onto the small bus, feeling the exhaustion from a long day. Ron was very happy when Tara claimed the seat next to him. While Ron didn't dare try to kiss the girl during a school function, they could discretely hold hands, where Barkin couldn't see from the drivers seat. Soon, the bus was on the highway and the sun was down. One by one, the squad drifted off to sleep. Ron leaned against the side of the bus and Tara leaned against him, her warm body and comforting presence prompting his eyes to close and sleep to take him.

He woke some time later to realize that Tara's head was now on his shoulder and there was considerably more body contact than Barkin would tolerate if it was light enough to see them. The blonde boy looked at his watch and realized that four hours had gone by. Disturbed by his movement, Tara opened her eyes, the glorious blue orbs inches from Ron's own.

"We're going to get in trouble if Barkin sees us," Ron whispered.

"It's dark," she whispered in reply. "And he's driving. We'll have plenty of warning."

Realizing that she was correct, he unzipped his coat. Taking the hint, she did the same to her outer garment, allowing their bodies closer contact and greater combined warmth. He expected her to tuck her head under his chin again, but she wanted to talk a little.

"Ron?" She asked. "If we didn't have the competition today, would you have asked me out on another date?"

"Yes," he said.

"Well, this was sort of a date, wasn't it?" She smiled an absolutely cute grin. "We had a meal, you could call the competition almost dancing and now we're cuddling."

"Tara!" Trying to express himself while keeping his voice down was a challenge. "This doesn't count as a date! We're supposed to do something you like to do!"

"I like to win," she pointed out. "I like to cheer, and I like to cuddle with you."

Noting that it was very dark in the bus, Ron put an arm around her, drawing her closer with her obvious approval. She looked around and confirmed that everyone else was asleep except Barkin, whose undivided attention was on the road. The next thing Ron knew, her mouth was on his. They kissed for several minutes until the need for air pulled them apart.

"Now it feels like a date," Tara told him.

Ron could only smile at her. How could someone this adorable, this beautiful, chose him?

"Tara?" He asked. "This will be a short school week, with the Thanksgiving break. Would you like to go out and do something together Saturday afternoon and then join me to watch the parade?"

"What do you have in mind?" Her head was now on his shoulder.

"You said you like to ice skate and the rink is open. Would you mind trying to keep me upright?"

"That sounds like fun," she told him. "Now about the parade, are you sure you're not asking me out for something that's going to be cold in an effort to get me to share a blanket with you?"

"If you don't want to, I understan..."

"Because if you're trying to do that, it's going to work," she smiled at him again. The smile was marred by a sudden yawn.

"Can you set your watch to wake us up about a half hour before we get home?" She asked. "I'm still tired, you're warm and I don't want to get in trouble for snuggling."

She closed her eyes again and Ron fumbled to set his watch to the correct alarm time. He had to admit that she had a good point. Somehow, her warm body up against his made sleep come quickly. When the watch sounded its alarm, they scrambled to sit up and looked all innocence when Middleton's street lights illuminated the bus.

Ron was almost disappointed when his father was waiting at the high school with the rest of the squad's parents. He was sure that Tara's father would have had no problem giving him a lift...which would give him and Tara just a few more minutes with each other. The blonde boy forced any bad thoughts down; his father had come out in the wee hours of the morning to give him a ride home and he would have plenty of time with his...girlfriend...in the upcoming week. He was a little shocked when Tara insisted on a quick peck on the mouth, right in front of both fathers, before they loaded up and went to their respective homes.

Ron's dad smirked at him the entire way home.

Once in bed, despite his exhaustion, Ron just couldn't sleep. He realized that it wasn't thoughts of Tara that were keeping him up; he wanted a bit more of a rush. Moving quietly, he sneaked out to the back yard yet again and performed the two routines that Wade had translated. Again, he felt the little surge of energy when he got it right. Sneaking back to his room, he was now able to sleep.

* * *

"So yer sayin' some sert o' unstoppable creature's gonna track ye t' me island and abode?" Duff Killigan looked hard at his guest.

"Indeed," Monty agreed, sipping the tea his host had offered him. Next to him, his three monkey ninjas also sipped at the warm beverage. "I believe I tried to warn you of this when I made my offer."

"That ye did, laddie," the big golfer nodded. "Aye must say, aye didn't quit' believe it, 'till I foun' out ye were forced out o' yer own castle. Y' say this spirit 'll be here in two weeks or so?"

"Roughly that," Fiske confirmed. "The spirit cannot be stopped, but it can be delayed. Later today, a delivery will arrive with some building materials and the remainder of my monkey ninjas. We will build some fences and install some monitoring equipment around your island. We do this so that we will have some warning when it arrives. We hope to keep the damage to your home and lands to a minimum."

"Aye, I've seen the plans," Duff noted. "The technicians 'ave already shown up. They're installin' the medical equipment even as we speak. Now, what's this ye were sayin' about bein' able to escape?"

"I don't know if the plan will work," Fiske admitted. "If it does not, I will be forced to flee, once again. I wish to have two methods of escape ready, just in case."

"That's no' difficult," Killigan told him. "I'll have me powerboat an' me dirigible on standby."

"What if a storm cuts off access to the mainland when the spirit arrives?" Fiske asked. "Winter is coming on and the weather may prove to be an obstacle."

"I've got a whole feet o' golf carts," Killigan assured him. "An' ye say the spirit is slow. If worse comes t' worse, we'll jus' hop on a cart an' lead it on a merry chase roun' me island 'til the weather clears up enough for y' to leave."

"I can't say that I have a better plan," Fiske admitted, finishing his tea.

"If yer done, why don' I shew ye to yer rooms?" Killigan asked his guest. "After that, we'll look over th' preparations that are already done."

"An excellent suggestion," Fiske agreed, setting down his cup. His monkeys were already finished, as he had never been able to teach them proper manners; they simply gulped their tea.

As Killigan led the small party into his castle's guest wing, Fiske realized that he could be in for a long afternoon. He had learned, long ago, to never allow his monkeys to drink tea but had forgotten the lesson due to exhausting and in shock from being forced from his home. Of course, he couldn't fault Killigan for being a proper host and offering the beverage to the simians.

How was the Scotsman to know that monkey ninjas, hyped up on caffeine, were very unruly residents?

The small suite of rooms Killigan showed Fiske to were comfortable and somewhere between modest and luxurious. Fiske couldn't complain. The monkeys had their own room, which adjoined to Fiske's suite and allowed them to serve their master. Fiske suspected that Killigan also intended this arrangement to allow him to keep a close eye on his minions...which was a very good idea. After showing his guests their rooms, Killigan led Fiske to another chamber, where technicians had set up a medical bed and were installing various medical equipment.

"Two exits, jus' like ye asked," Killigan pointed out. "One of the chamber doors led into the castle while the other opened onto a back stairway and an exit on ground level.

Both Fiske and Killigan were confident that the experts knew more about the equipment than they did, so they left them to their work and returned to the great hall. The caffeine was starting to affect the monkeys by the time they reached their goal. Killigan noticed.

"Yer laddies are gettin' a wee bit unruly," the host noted. "An' yer lookin' tense yourself Monty me boy. Everythin's bein' taken care o'. Why don't ye join me in a round o' golf? Tis been a long time since I've had a partner to play with."

While Fiske wasn't a player, he could find no polite reason to decline and besides, some walking and fresh air might so him some good. While Chippy proved to be capable of handling her caffeine rush, at least to a manageable extent, the other two monkeys were quite unmanageable. The two humans sent them off to the north end of the island to, in Killigan's words. "Climb th' cliffs and run in th' brambles until yer ready t' be civilized."

While the other two monkeys scrambled off to burn off excess energy, Killigan took his other two guests to a lower level, where he stored spare golf equipment. He carefully fitted Monty for a set of clubs and even had a set that was appropriately-sized for Chippy.

"They were me own," he explained to the simian, tears forming in his eyes. "Me own dear gram had them made for me, shortly after I'd learned t' walk. 'Tis been many a long, long year since they've been out on th' course and felt the proper smack o' the ball. 'Twill do me heart good t' see them used again!"

Chippy climbed a nearby cabinet and gave his host a hug and pat on the back that was both consoling and thankful.

Killigan was a serious golfer and since they were all hale and healthy, refused to allow the use of a golf cart. They all served as their own caddies. Even though the Scotsman was much more skilled than his guests, he didn't belittle them. A true golfer, he strove his best to teach them how to play. It was a long process, as neither Fiske nor Chippy could hit with any great accuracy or distance. Still, there was a great deal of walking in the open air, which helped Fiske's attitude a great deal.

Monty was more than a little peeved that by the time they finished the first nine holes, Chippy was ahead of him by two strokes. He took a little consolation from the fact that the only reason the monkey was beating him was that she was cheating outrageously, using her tail to change the lie of her ball whenever she thought Killigan and he weren't looking.

Fiske honestly didn't know if he should be upset that she was cheating against him, or pleased by the fact that she was being a true ninja and finding a tricky way to succeed.

They were just teeing up for the tenth hole when a large helicopter, with a bundle of equipment suspended below it, flew in from the direction of the mainland and hovered over the island's west end. The threesome interrupted their game, Killigan made sure that the scores were properly recorded, and hustled to meet the new visitors. Before they could reach the point, small figures emerged from the aircraft and released the load onto the ground. The small figures scrambled down the cargo net and started to root through the materials. The helicopter left before Duff, Monty and Chippy could reach it.

To their shock, by the time they reached the pile of building material, the monkeys were already hard at work, under the direction of a tracked robot. The robot turned at their approach, revealing a viewing screen upon which was the visage of...

"Mr. Lode," Fiske greeted the youth. "I see that you've found an innovative way in which to join us."

"I don't have the time to set up the communication and data center here, that I did back in your castle," Wade told him. "And I didn't want to impose on Duff, so I came here myself, so to speak. I've calculated a sixty-five percent chance that the spirit will approach the island from the west and a thirty-five percent chance that it will approach from the south. We'll concentrate the fences and the monitoring equipment on these points."

"Nae hold on a wee minute, laddie," Duff interrupted. "I'm not so sure I like th' idea of ye puttin' up these fences around me!"

"I have the plans right here," an articulated arm emerged from the robot and grabbed some rolled up papers from the pile of building materials. Another arm emerged and unrolled the plans for Killigan's scrutiny. "As you can see, we're keeping well away from your greens and even the roughs. We'll build some minor fencing outside the front and rear castle entrances, sort of a last minute delay if the plan doesn't work."

After viewing the plans for a minute, he admitted. "That looks fine by me. Ye've kept yer bee bobs off o' me course. How much time will it take to build all o' this?"

"I can supervise the construction from here," Wade told him. "I estimate about ten days. That should leave us plenty of leeway before the spirit can reach the island. I've also incorporated some more tests, to find out just what constitutes a gate for the laws this creature must work under."

"Well then, if ye've got the construction angle handled, there's nothin' keeping me other guests from finishin' our round now, is there?" Killigan looked much happier.

"Nothing at all," Wade told them, ignoring Monty's pained expression.

"So Monty and wee lassie, let's get back to the grande olde game!"

Despite the efforts the youth was expending in helping him, Fiske mentally swore revenge.

That evening, while the medical technicians and most of the monkeys dined in the servants' dining area, Killigan hosted Fiske, Chippy and the Wadebot in his own dining hall. Both Chippy and Fiske appeared somewhat less than thrilled at the haggis on their plates. Killigan seemed a little out of his depth when trying to determine how to properly host a youth on another continent, who was communicating via a robot. Wade convinced the man that if he could plug the robot into an outlet, the robot would be 'refreshed'. In the meantime, Wade himself appeared on the screen, eating a plate of his mother's goulash.

"I have trouble believin' it," Killigan admitted, as the meal reached its end. "In fact, I wouldn' believe it if Monty hadn' fled here. So the plan is t' stop Fiske's heart an' see if the ghostie simply goes away?"

"That's the plan," Fiske informed his host. Strangely enough, once he had eaten the first bite, he found that he rather liked the haggis. As long as he didn't actually look at it, he was fine eating it.

"So what's the problem?" Killigan asked.

"First of all, I'm not pleased with the idea of my heart being stopped," the nobleman admitted.

"Secondly, we aren't sure it will work," Wade added. "The translation is not specific. The spirit could pursue Monty until he is dead or until he is destroyed."

"Further complicating matters is the definition of dead," Fiske continued. "While my heart will stop, the various machines will keep my organs alive. We have no way of determining if my condition will meet the spirit's definition of dead."

"Hence, the reason we need at least two escape routes," Wade concluded. "If the spirit isn't deterred, we need to get Monty away."

"Wha' happens in tha' case?" Killigan asked. "Where do ye go and wha' do ye do?"

"In that case, I must remain on the move," Fiske said, bitterly. "It means that young Mr. Lode has failed me and I must pay the price."

"You're paying the price because you called this spirit up in the first place!" Wade snarled at him. "If you had your way, my friends would be dead or destroyed right now! You're just mad that what you planned for someone else has come back to haunt you!"

"I'll have no arguin' in me hall!" Killigan interrupted. "We'll deal with this plan. If it doesn't work, ye'll have to deal with things and leave me out o' it."

"Very well," Fiske agreed. "We will continue our preparations in the morning.

"I guess so," Wade added.

"Fine then," Killigan glared at them all. He raised his cup in a toast. "To success! May we accomplish what we seek to. May my guests become friends, even if they're not so friendly at the moment!"

Fiske and Chippy raised their own cups and drank the toast. Wade copied the action with his slurpster. Even with the forced comradeship, Fiske and Lode shared hard looks when the nobleman left the hall to seek his bed.

Despite Fiske's animosity towards the youth, he had to admire his mind, his ability to plan and execute. Under the youngster's direction, delivered via the robot, his monkey ninja's quickly installed fences along the west and south shores of Killigan's island. After that they installed fence mazes outside the two entrances to the castle proper. Lode himself insisted on installing the cameras and other diagnostic equipment, as well as the monitors in Killigan's taproom, which was as close to a study as the golfer had. Wade even managed to double check the medical equipment, assuring himself that it was functional.

Killigan insisted that Chippy and Fiske play at least one round of golf with him each day. Fiske was almost irritated that his natural competitiveness compelled him to give it his best. As much as he didn't want to, Fiske found himself improving in this skill. To his great irritation, Chippy improved at a faster rate, even without cheating.

At the end of the week, the preparations were complete and the medical professionals, supplied at great cost by Henchco, arrived. They spent a day drilling with Fiske on the medical equipment. By the end of that day, they had perfected their routine to the point that they could connect Fiske in under fifteen minutes. The very next day, they called Fiske, Chippy, Wade and Killigan together.

"The equipment you were able to assemble on such short notice will keep your organs alive for three minutes," the older man said. "After that, we will have to resuscitate you. It isn't an exact science, so I want you to know that we may be unable to do so and you may suffer brain or other organ damage, even if we limit your death to three minutes."

"I understand the risks," Fiske told them. "There will be no retribution upon you or your organization should your efforts fail. Unlike others." Here, he glared at the Wadebot.

"I'm getting tired of this, Fiske," Wade snarled at him, from an ocean away. "You brought this on yourself and I took it on myself to help you. If you want to see how long you can last without me, fine! If this doesn't work, don't come to me for any more help."

"Enough!" Killigan snapped at them. "Enough threats in me own halls!" He looked at Fiske. "I don't understand ye, Englishman! Ye've got an unstoppable ghost out to do ye in, and ye're looking for more enemies?"

"You make a valid point," Fiske conceded. "Let's not discuss this until we've dealt with the spirit."

"Fair enough," Wade agreed, although his expression told him it was far from over.

The next day, a dirigible captain and an experienced boat captain arrived, in case Fiske had to flee. A car was positioned on the mainland, to meet him in that event.

Several days of the uneasy truce passed, with Fiske getting more and more irritable. It was a relief when the alarm bells started to go off one overcast afternoon, while Fiske was meditating in Killigan's great hall.

"West shore!" Wade called, as his bot rolled towards the taproom. "I'm going to accompany Duff."

"Right!" Fiske agreed, sprinting to what they had declared the medical bay. As soon as he reached the room, he tore off his tunic and lay on the medical bed. It seemed to take forever, but in reality probably took less then two minutes, for the two professionals to arrive.

"Very well, Lord Fiske, try to relax," the elder told him. They didn't bother with additional conversation, simply went about attaching the various needles and patches that Fiske had never really understood. Every minute seemed to drag on forever, even though he knew that the obstacles Mr. Lode had put in place would easily keep the unwelcome guest occupied for a half-hour.

"Okay, we're ready," the older man finally announced.

"Okay, the spirit is still in the obstacles," Wade's voice sounded over a speaker.

"Understood," the professional replied. With a last look at Fiske, he activated a control.

Monty's world went dark.

"I can see the ghost in the smoke," Duff told the Wadebot. "It's zig-zagging through the passages ye made with the fences. What now?"

"We wait until we get a report from the medical people," Wade told him. "Then we wait some more, and hope."

"We're ready," the voice reported, over a speaker.

"Okay, the spirit is still in the obstacles," Wade told him.

"Understood," the professional replied. Moments later, a chilling, monotone sounded through the speaker system. "Lord Fiske's heart is stopped. Counting down from three minutes."

"The ghost just stopped," Killigan said, gesturing to a screen. "I can still see it in the smoke, but it quit moving! It's just standing there!"

"Two minutes!" The professional reported.

"It should be going away!" Wade said. "It should vanish back to wherever it came from, unless it doesn't consider the mission finished until Fiske is destroyed. Or, maybe he must really be dead!"

"'Tis not moving at all," Duff pointed out. "Ye can see it, the head isn't turning! 'Tis just standing there, waiting."

"One minute!" The professional reported.

"It's failed!" Wade almost cried. "This didn't work! What can we do now?"

"'Tis not yere fault, laddie," Duff assured him, patting the back of the Wadebot. "If I understand th' situation, the Englishman called up this ghost to do fer Miss Possible and...and...and the lad that travels with her."

"Ron," Wade told him.

"Nay, I don't think runnin' will do any good." Duff told him. "But if I understand what's happening, yer friends turned this ghost on Monty up there. He brought this on himself. That's why I always deal with things meself. No henchmen, no trained monkeys, no odd spirits."

"Time!" The professional called out. "We're resuscitating at this time!"

Wade and Duff watched. Sure enough, moments after the professional announced that they were resuscitating, the spirit started to move again.

"Get Monty ready to move," Wade told the professionals. "The spirit is moving again. It will be able to enter the castle within twenty minutes."

"Understood," came the reply.

Wade turned the robot and guided it to the medical bay. He was there when Fiske awoke.

Light returned to his eyes. Montgomery Fiske opened his eyes to see the Wadebot roll into the medical bay. His monkeys were hard behind the robot.

"What happened," he asked, weak as a kitten.

"Failure," Wade reported. "It's less than twenty minutes out. We have to get you out of here. I'll forward a list of destinations for you to use."

"If you've failed me here, why should I trust your judgment for where I should stay?" He tried to demand, but his voice was weak.

"Because all of the destinations were built with long hallways that run diagonally to the cardinal directions." Wade told him. "It is the least I can do."

"You are certainly good at doing the least," Fiske countered, bitterly. "How do I get out of here?"

"We take you, Lord Fiske," the younger of the two professionals told him. "We take you out the back stairs, down to the docks and the boat takes us to the mainland. Once there, a car takes you to Aberdeen, where you catch a small aircraft to London. Once there, you will board an airliner to Calcutta, where your first...exile...is waiting."

"It will take the creature at least two months to reach you there," Wade told him. "After that, I suggest you go to Sydney."

The two professionals loaded Monty onto a stretcher and started for the back door. His monkeys moved to follow.

"Stay here," he told them. "Monkeys will not be welcome where I am going. Stay here for now until Duff can arrange to send you back to my castle. You will need to care for my estate while I remain in exile."

He turned to Wade.

"I don't suffer failure with good grace," he hissed at the young man. "I am going into exile because of you. You gave the cheerleader and the pretender the ritual that turned the spirit onto me. You failed me twice. Know this, I will not forgive and I will not forget. If it is the last thing to do, I will have my revenge upon you and your friends for what you have done to me. This I swear!"

Wade could only watch as the two professionals carried the pursued nobleman out of the medical bay and onto his first leg of an indefinite, wandering exile.

"No ghostie's gonna drive a guest o' mine away from me own hearth," Wade's microphones picked up Killigan's rant. "We'll just see how unstoppable this hobgoblin happens t' be!"

Wade guided his robot to the castle's front door, where Duff was teeing up a third exploding golf ball. In the fence-maze outside, Wade could see the spirit, an outline in the smoke.

"Alright, ye boggle," Duff roared. "Fore!"

The first ball, flew true, hitting the oncoming spirit and exploding. Moments later, the smoke revealed the spirit, still coming forward.

"Ye'r a stubborn one, I like that!" Duff snarled. "Fore!"

A second explosive projectile struck the oncoming assassin. Again, it kept coming.

"Ah, so ye want to play rough," Duff was actually smiling. "Fore!"

Again, the Scotsman's aim was true and again, it had no effect.

"Well, some things ye can deal with from a distance, but some are better dealt with up close!" He pulled a second wood from his bag and twirling both clubs like fighting sticks, charged the oncoming spirit.

"Duff, no!" Wade screamed, via his robot.

He could then only stare in horror as the limp form of the world's deadliest golfer flew back into the castle to lie motionless on the floor.

* * *

A/N:

 _Folks, that will be the end of this little tale. The chapter limit for the contest is 5, so it's time to stop. However, please look for my sequel, Monkey on the Run, in the near future._

 _Thanks for reading, thanks to everyone who reviewed, and thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for beta reading._

 _Until next we meet, best wishes to everyone._

 _Daccu65_


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